If You Were Lost
by kisitechie
Summary: In a world of chaos, selfish people and flesh-eating monsters, Daryl never thought the most disruptive, confusing, and incredible force in his life would appear in the relative safety of Alexandria. Darly/OC in the form of my own character, Rylynn. Rated M for language, violence and later (Ch 20 and on) sexual content.
1. Must You Harass Everyone?

**AN: A lot of the Daryl/OC pieces out in the fabulous fanfiction universe begin with either the OC or Daryl being trapped by a walker horde, the other rescuing them, etc etc etc. Don't get me wrong- I love those stories just as much as y'all do! I wanted to challenge myself to create a character that Daryl would fall in love with in a moment of relative safety. The character and Daryl's reaction to her were inspired by Norman Reedus's remark, ""The thing about that is, I really want to play him sort of- he's not the type of guy that's gonna like, throw you up against the tree in the moonlight. I want him to be awkward as possible, so um, I mean, once that happens, it happens," and "If Daryl falls in love with you, he's going to love you for the rest of his life." **

**I honestly don't know how long this is going to be! I'm just kind of flying with it. If you guys have any suggestions, wishes, and other such fantastical things, shout them over to me please! Happy reading!**

The sun was rising later and later, Daryl noticed as he lazily made his way down the front porch. It was nearly 8 AM, and the rays were just starting to peek over the top of the Alexandria wall.

"Gonna get cold soon," he muttered to Rick, who was sitting at the bottom stair of the porch, watching the same scene. Rick gave him a small smile as a greeting and nodded.

"At least this time we have actual shelter," Rick responded, and Daryl gave a grunt in reply. Yes, shelter was good. The houses were great, actually. Just…it was still taking some getting used to, white picket fences and side-paneled houses. For Rick, and many of the other "family" members, it was returning to a previous life. For Daryl, it was living in a luxury he never thought he would experience.

"Where are you heading out to?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Gonna head over to Aaron's, got a bike he wants me to fix up."

Rick smiled again at the news. He had been mildly concerned about Daryl finding a place in the new town, especially with some of the social standards set within the walls. While Aaron and Eric had been Rick's last guess for Daryl to form a connection with, he was glad to see the hunter trusting beyond the original group.

"Well good luck on that. I'll be patrolling around with Michonne today," Rick said as he got to his feet. "We'll swing by and see if you need any help."

"Aight, see ya," Daryl nodded as he headed down the driveway.

Daryl arrived at Aaron and Eric's and stopped on the front lawn. The garage door was open, revealing his day's work, but neither men were out. Daryl contemplated knocking on the door, but wasn't sure if the open garage was a sign that they didn't want him to come into the house.

He looked around, making sure no one else was out on the street to witness his being stumped like an idiot. He had no idea what kind of social protocol there was for this. Heck, when he was a kid, he never went over to any other houses! The neighborhood kids all played in the empty lots outside. Here, in clean suburbia, he was out of his element.

"Normally, I'd ask if you were lost," a voice whispered in his ear, and the hunter almost jumped six feet into the air.

"Shit!" he swore, turning to see a tall, lean woman standing behind his shoulder, her eyes laughing at him as she politely tried to hide the smile on her lips. "Jesus woman, ain't anyone ever told ya not to sneak up on folks?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess I missed that day in school. By the looks of it, you missed the day on how to knock on front doors?"

He glared at her, feeling annoyed that she had seen his social ineptitude. "I fuckin' know how to knock!"

She looked confused and mildly amused at his defensiveness, then turned her face towards the house. "AARON! ERIC! GET OUT HERE!"

Motions were heard from inside the house, and then the front door cracked open and a bleary-eyed Aaron poked his head out. "Jesus Christ, Ry, it's 8 in the morning! There's no need for shouting!" He then saw Daryl and said, "Morning Daryl. You're here early."

"Sorry, didn't realize…" Daryl muttered.

"No, no, it's fine. The garage is open, so you can just pop by whenever you feel like it. Eric and I usually are up around 9, LIKE MOST PEOPLE." He explained, shooting a glare at the girl's direction.

"That's probably why I get the most done," the girl smirked back playfully at him. "Angel here would have been standing on your lawn till 9 and lost daylight."

Daryl gave her a befuddled look at the name she gave him. "Angel?"

She tapped the wings on the back of his leather vest. "You must have also missed the day on introducing yourself before people have to assign nicknames to refer to you."

Aaron rolled his eyes at her bantering. "Ry, I swear, must you harass everyone?"

"Nope, just the newcomers lost in a four-block town," she smiled. "I gotta get back to my run." Daryl looked down at her attire and noticed that she was wearing black running tights and a long-sleeved, tight blue shirt. "Nice to meet you, Angel. I'm glad we got to review calling on neighbors together, I was getting rusty myself. Aaron, as always, it was a joy to see your smiling face at this lovely hour."

"Get off my lawn, Ry, and you better not ever come back before 10 AM," Aaron said, but winked at her and gave her a smile as she took off. Daryl shook his head at her retreating back and headed for the open garage.

"Well, since I was so rudely awakened, I'll be down in a few minutes," Aaron told him, and disappeared back into the house.

Daryl was propping up the back tire to get a better look at the underside of the bike when Aaron entered the garage space, this time fully dressed and hair combed.

"How's it looking?" Aaron asked him.

"Not too bad," Daryl told him. The bike and all the parts were in decent shape; it was just going to be a matter of putting them back together again. "Should have her up and runnin' in a few days. Might have to go get a few more parts, but nothin' major."

"Ok. Let me know what parts you need, and maybe draw a basic description. I can give the list to Ry and she can go get them."

Daryl looked up at him in surprise. "Ry? You mean that girl from earlier?"

"Yep. She's our runner."

Daryl gave him a look of confusion. Aaron smiled at him and gave a small laugh.

"Sorry. I've been here for too long, obviously. Some of our terms are becoming a part of my natural vocabulary. A runner is someone who goes on supply runs without a vehicle. Bringing your group in took a bit more gas than we anticipated, and cost us two vehicles…"

"Sorry bout that," Daryl muttered.

"It's fine. All part of the world now, right? But we're trying to cut down on fuel and vehicles until we have a chance to recover from that. So Ry goes out on foot, or on her bike if it's a longer trip, and comes back. Necessities or things we need to get our vehicles back into shape, mostly. She does patrols for large biter groups in a radius around the fence, too."

"Interestin', "Daryl responded. "She been here since the beginning?"

"No…," Aaron trailed off. "Look, her story is her own and no one here knows much about her past. In fact, what we call her isn't even her name."

"Ry ain't her name?"

"Well, Ry is short for Rylynn. When she was brought into Alexandria she barely spoke for a few days. When she finally came out of her shell, it was mostly to talk about current things, not her past. She wouldn't tell us the name of the people who she had been travelling with, or her home town, or even where she had been all this time. She didn't even tell anyone her own name. At her welcome party, she picked up Eric's guitar and played this beautiful piece. When Eric asked what it was called, she said, 'Rylynn'. So that's what we've been calling her."

"So what, she's like a weird mystery or somethin'?"

"No. She's perfectly normal, as far as we can tell. High functioning, despite all she went through out there. Social, even though we think she was alone for a while. She just doesn't seem to want to remember anything that came before this."

"It's a personal thing," a female voice echoed off the walls. Daryl jumped again and knocked his head on the kickstand.

"Fuck!" he swore, rubbing his head. "Can't ya just say hello when ya show up?!"

"Rylynn, sorry," Aaron said, ashamed that he had been gossiping about her.

"It's all fine, Aaron. I don't' expect people to just forget that I don't' talk about what came before. Like I said, it's a personal decision I make." She looked over at Daryl. "Well, now you know what I'm called. Care to share yours?"

"My apologies again," Aaron said, offering Daryl his hand and hauling him to his feet. "Daryl, this is Rylynn, better known as Ry. Ry, this is Daryl. He is a member of Rick's group."

"I've heard things about you. Lone wolf, hunter type." Ry said, watching Daryl's face as she laid out the assessment of him.

"Close enough," Daryl mumbled.

Aaron cut in. "He's fixing up the motorcycle for me and then he and I will be heading out to recruit more people together."

A genuine grin split Ry's face. "That's wonderful! I didn't like the idea of you going out alone. Can I still come with you guys occasionally?"

"Sure," Aaron said, and Daryl shot him an exasperated look.

"What?" Ry said, mildly offended. "I'm obviously quiet on my feet- quiet enough to sneak up on you. Twice."

"Won't happen again," Daryl promised her somewhat aggressively. He expected her to back off, or shy away, but instead she openly laughed.

"You have nothing to prove, Daryl. I'm not a threat to anyone's status or place here."

He was taken aback by her to-the-core observation, but she was too busy turning her attention back to Aaron to notice.

"I remembered that I came by earlier to talk about a replacement vehicle with you. What are we looking for? I want to keep my eyes out on my runs and was thinking of…"

Daryl left the two to their conversation and turned his attention back to the bike, but occasionally snuck a peek at the girl conversing with his friend. She was long and lean, with not a lot of extra meat on her. Definitely built like an endurance athlete. Her skin was on the darker side, but he suspected that was due to a tan from running all summer long. She had a sharp profile but soft eyes, and her long hair was more gold on the bottom, a dark brown on the top. She must have dyed it blonde before the world went to hell, and the brown must be her true colors…

"Ok, well I'll keep my eyes out for that type of car. Keep your fingers crossed."

"Aaron, hand me that c-clamp," Daryl called from under the bike. A pair of hands appeared under the bike with a c-clamp, but Daryl was surprised to see pink polish on the nails.

"Thanks," he muttered. A few seconds later, the hands appeared again with an f-clamp.

"I don't need that right now," he grumbled.

"You will once you get to that intake valve," Ry responded, and placed it next to his head. He looked up at the intake valve and saw that he would need it to clamp the piece in place before securing it properly.

"Uh…thanks," he responded, finally making eye contact with his newfound respect. As soon as he did, he felt his fingertips go numb. Her eyes were a blend of grey and gold specks, and while the color was stunning enough, what struck him was the expression in her eyes. It was kindness and laughter and honesty, wrapped in confidence and exuding empathy.

She gave him a small smile that seemed to fill the garage. "No problem, Daryl. I hope I see you around."

And then she was turning on her heel, running down the driveway, and was gone.

**AN: So, what do you think? Feedback is always appreciated. I know we didn't get too much backstory on Ry…in fact, we don't even know her real name! I suppose we will have to unravel the mystery with Daryl. **


	2. Thanks for the Warm Welcome

AN: Thanks for all those who are following or favoriting the story! Feedback, requests, and favorite recipes are always welcome in the comments section.

Daryl spent the rest of the daylight hours working away on the motorcycle, occasionally taking a break in the house with Eric and Aaron. While Eric seemed nice enough, Daryl preferred the company of Aaron. The man was honest, direct, and meant everything that he said, all qualities that Daryl had valued even before the world had gone to hell.

The light began to grow dimmer as the sun slipped below the horizon of the Alexandria wall, and Daryl begrudgingly called it a day and said goodbye to Eric, who was contently sitting on the porch in the cool evening air. Satisfied with the day's productivity, Daryl started for the house shared by his group.

Rick and Carl were already cooking away with Sasha's help when he came in the door. Carol was also in the kitchen, busily trying to clean up after the multiple messes created by the father and son in their pursuit of a pasta dinner. She looked up as Daryl sat down at the long dining table. She gave him a frown and flicked her washcloth at him.

"Hey!" he protested.

"You're covered in grease," she scolded. "Have you even showered since we got here?"

He glared at her. "Aint none of your business."

"It is if you're putting your greasy, dusty arms all over the family tables."

Carl quietly laughed as Rick flung a spaghetti noodle at the ceiling to test it for proper consistency. Sasha was cutting vegetables on a board and shaking her head at Carol and Daryl's banter. Everyone had fallen into a relaxed routine, with set roles. Everyone…except for Daryl. He still felt uneasy in the clean, proper houses.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"Well, Michonne is finishing up her rounds in about an hour," Rick mentioned from the stove.

"Noah is upstairs, pouring over these architecture books someone found him. I think Abraham is looking over the construction crew trucks they are taking out tomorrow. Rosa is in the shower, Eugene is digging through some garages looking for…tech stuff, I would suppose." Carol continued.

"Glenn and Maggie are over at the pantry, getting the rations for the next few days. And Tara is taking a nap at the other house," Sasha finished. "Are you going to be over at Aaron and Eric's place tomorrow, too?"

Daryl nodded. "Prob'ly."

"Should we have them over sometime?" Carol asked. "I like Aaron. He's a good man."

"He is. You can ask 'em. They might bring another person, though."

"Oh? I didn't know they had another person in their house."

"They don't. Some neighborhood girl, came by twice today. Called her Ry."

Carl perked up from the stove. "Another…person my age?"

"Naw, older."

"Her name is Ry?" Carol asked. "That's unusual."

"Short for somethin'" Daryl responded.

"I wouldn't mind having them over, and Ry, too," Rick said. "It would be easier to get to know the people here through friends, rather than by knocking on their doors."

"I'll ask 'em sometime," Daryl said, taking the hint.

"Thanks," Rick said.

Dinner went by uneventfully, with the family members gradually filing in through the door until the entire clan was seated around the house, happily munching on Carl and Rick's pasta and chatting about the day. Daryl was quietly listening to Michonne describing weaknesses along the fence to Rick when a knock came at the door. The entire group instinctually froze.

Rick was on his feet instantly. "Everyone relax," he reminded them, but his hand wandered towards the revolver on his hip all the same. He walked to the door quietly and looked through the peephole, then unlocked and opened the door.

"Is this the….um… is this the house of….Rick's group?" a female voice asked, her words stumbling as she realized she didn't know what to call them. Daryl curiously peered around Rick to see who was in the doorway. A pretty, slender girl dressed in a long, soft-looking, navy-blue dress was standing there awkwardly, one hand gripped tightly in the other. Her hair was braided loosely down her shoulder, brown giving way to a golden…

"Son of a bitch," Daryl said, louder than he intended to, when he recognized the visitor. "What the hell ya doin' here, girl?"

The awkwardness and uncertainty in her body language melted away as she straightened her shoulders and looked directly into his eyes defiantly. "Well thanks for the warm welcome."

Rick turned over his shoulder and shot Daryl a confused look. "Daryl, do you know her?"

"Yeah I do," Daryl said. He had every intention of telling them all that this was that girl he had been talking about earlier, most likely in an annoyed tone. But she was standing in the shadows of the porch light, looking at him expectantly, those grey and gold eyes somehow growing brighter. He realized that her eyes were laughing at him again, and the more joy and humor her eyes conveyed, the more lost he was for words.

He swallowed thickly, "Uh….this….guys, this…I mean, she…"

She openly laughed at him now. "Daryl, one of these days I am going to get a proper introduction out of you. Perhaps in the distant future, though." She turned swiftly to Rick, hand extended. "Hello, I'm Rylynn, although most around here call me Ry."

"Rylynn, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Rick. This is my son, Carl…" Rick went around the room, introducing the young woman to each of the family members in turn. She smiled and gave a polite "pleased to meet you" to each. Once Rick had finished, she turned her attention back to the leader.

"My apologies for barging in on dinner," she said, "but I actually came to get something from Daryl."

Rick said, "Oh, of course," and stepped aside to let Rylynn speak directly to his right-hand man.

"Whatcha want?" Daryl asked. Carol smacked his arm, protesting his rudeness. Rylynn simply shook her head at him.

"The list," she said directly.

"What list? I aint got no list of yours," he shot at her. Carol smacked him again. He really wished she would just go away and leave him alone; having her in this space was making him nervous and fidgety.

Rylynn seemed unfazed. "The list of parts you need for the bike. Aaron said you would have it."

Daryl's hand went to the back pocket of his jeans, where he felt a thin piece of paper crinkle under his fingers. _Oh. _But now the entire group was looking at him, wondering why he was being so rude to this pretty girl, and Carol was staring at him with critical eyes.

"I ain't got no list for ya. I can get the parts myself," he quickly justified. Better to do a little extra work than to admit he had been unreasonably rude to her.

Rylynn still wasn't deterred. "You know where to go?"

"Yeah I know where to go!" Daryl snapped.

"Daryl!" Carol finally intervened. "There's no need for that kind of tone."

Rylynn put her hand up. "Thank you, Carol, but it's quite alright. I can handle a little attitude."

"You're going to have to handle more than a little with this one," Carol said as she pushed by Daryl and back into the kitchen. Daryl merely glared after her.

Rylynn sighed. "I can't let you go out to get the parts on your own. The nearest garage that has a decent stock left is out of the ways."

"I'll find it on my own. Don't need no help," Daryl responded. Rylynn raised her eyebrows at him, her face taking on authoritative and almost sassy features.

"I'm sorry," she cocked her head at him, "did you hear a question in that statement? I'll lead you there. If you want to sass off to the trees on any following trips, you're welcome to do so. Until then, you're stuck directing that energy at me. I'll be by tomorrow morning." She turned to the rest of the crowd, including Sasha and Noah, who had to snap their dropped mouths closed. "It was wonderful to meet you all. If you need anything, especially any items from beyond the wall, please don't hesitate to knock on my door."

She turned one last time to Daryl. "And whether you like it or not, I will see you tomorrow."


	3. Why Do You Care?

**AN: Thanks for all the support, guys! I really appreciate those of you who have taken the time to favorite, follow or review. The feedback you give greatly helps me in the writing process for the next chapter. **

Rylynn's foretold knock came with the morning sun. Daryl had already been up for about thirty minutes, eating and getting his gear together for the day's expedition.

He opened the door, crossed the threshold and promptly closed it behind him, practically bowling her over. She stepped backwards and squinted at him.

"Not a morning person?" she quipped. He merely squinted at her in the morning sun and started down the porch stairs. She followed suit, taking two stairs at a time in a bound.

"So the shop we are heading to is about five or six miles out," she called, quickening her pace to keep up with his longer strides.

"Fine," he grumbled, walking even faster.

"You…uh…sure you're up for that?" she said quizzically, spinning in front of him and eyeballing his clothes as they reached the wall gate. He stopped and looked down at his own attire. Torn, dirty jeans, black shirt with the sleeves ripped off, his vest, and a leather jacket over top. His brown, worn boots were laced high on his calves.

"What?" he snapped at her. She gave him an exasperated look. She gestured to her own clothes. Black, sleek running tights and a snug, navy, long-sleeved running thermal set off her orange and black running shoes.

"We're running there…and I need you to keep up," she clarified, rolling her eyes.

"I can keep up just fine. Aint likely to be left behind by some _girl_," he growled, not liking what she was insinuating.

He realized that he had crossed some invisible line when her head tilted in the already too-familiar side cock, but her eyes were not laughing at him this time. She sucked in a very impatient breath, and then stepped into him, their chests bumping slightly, faces inches apart.

"Look, Daryl," she whispered, but it came out more like a hiss. "You're new, you don't know me too well. So let me make this exceedingly clear to you. I am doing you a favor by letting you come along, not the other way around. This _woman _has been through just as much as you have, and I will not have some punk-ass _boy _disrespecting me. Now, you can find me as annoying as you want. You can dislike me all you please. But questioning my abilities at the job entrusted to me is disrespect, and I will not tolerate it."

Daryl heard all of her words, and her message was clear enough to him. But having her in his close, personal space was doing strange things to him. He was trying very hard to listen to her, but occasionally his focus would slip to her eyes, or the strand of hair that had come loose from her pony tail and was hanging down in front of her cheek. Her eyes were fire and intensity, but there was still a sense of softness he felt from the golden flecks.

When she rocked back on her heels to step out of his space, his hands twitched of their own accord, wanting to keep her there.

"Are we clear?" she asked him, and he met her eyes and mumbled a, "yes".

The pace that Rylynn set wasn't brutal, but it wasn't comfortable either. Halfway through the second mile, Daryl began to understand why she had questioned his clothing choices. The leather jacket had been ditched at mile one, but the jeans were rubbing against his skin, the boots were weighing down his feet, and the loose, sleeveless shirt seemed to always be a motion behind him.

Rylynn, on the other hand, was all sleekness and featherweight. Her clothes stuck to her body like a second skin, and her feet lightly scraped the ground as she churned away in her low cut trail shoes. Daryl was acutely aware that he looked absurd on his own accord, but compared to her, he looked downright incompetent.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him, and saw that he was struggling. With a visible sigh, she came to a stop and fell into step behind him. Grateful, Daryl slowed to a walk as well. They fell into place side-by-side.

Rylynn had not resumed her usual banter since she had told him off, almost three miles ago. She wasn't looking at him either, just keeping her eyes fixed on the road and occasionally checking behind them. Daryl, too, was keeping his head on a swivel. He had left his crossbow behind the wall when he realized there was no way he could carry it and run at the same time. He had several knives on him, but still felt exposed without his favorite means of defense.

The lack of proper protection, the uncomfortable clothes, and the cold silence between them was making Daryl all the more fidgety and anxious. He decided to try to alleviate the one discomfort he could.

"So…" he began, and then realized he hadn't thought of a question. He hoped the prompt would be picked up by her, but she still refused to make eye contact with him. He inwardly groaned and tried again.

"So…what do ya usually carry? When…ah,…you're on your own?" he tried. He could see her chewing on the inside of her lip, deciding whether or not to reward his effort. She seemed to go with the middle ground, gesturing to her thigh. Barely visible was a slit in the fabric- a pocket, Daryl realized. She reached into it, barely having to change her posture with her long arms, and produced several small pocket knives. She then dropped them back in, and pulled up the hem of her shirt to reveal a slightly larger pocket knife clipped into her waistband.

"That's it?" Daryl asked, befuddled. "What about a piece?"

"Don't much like guns," she said simply, still not looking at him.

"Why?"

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him. He stopped, too. "Why do you care?"

His eyes opened wider in surprise. "I don't!" he snapped, automatically.

She just shook her head at him and kept walking. Daryl sighed and brought his hand up to scrub at his eyes.

"Ry! C'mon, would ya' just…" he called, breaking into a jog for a few seconds to catch up with her. He grabbed her right arm to stop her.

"Hold up!" he said, frustrated. She looked down at his large, scarred hand and looked up at his face, her eyes screaming anger at his intrusion, and she opened her mouth to presumably scream at him, when suddenly her eyes lost their furious edge, and she dropped her gaze back down to his fingers circling her arm.

He was confused by her sudden change of emotion, but was grateful that she hadn't started yelling at him, too, so he watched in curiosity as she reached across with her opposite hand and gently grasped his fingers in hers, breaking his grip. She brought his hand down from her arm, and rotated his so that his thumb was facing upwards.

It was in that second that Daryl realized what she had seen, and jerkily tried to yank his arm away. But she had reacted just as fast, tightening her grip on him. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she quietly muttered, "Don't."

The circular scar he had given himself with the cigarette a few weeks ago shone in the early sun, white, wrinkled, tough flesh slightly raised above the rest of his skin. She examined it with concern and curiosity, trying to piece together the story behind it. Daryl yanked his hand away again, and this time she let up on her grip. He looked into her eyes, and this time it was his turn to mutter, "Don't."

But she would not let up. She held eye contact, her eyes now exuding softness and concern again. "Daryl… I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" he mumbled. She paused, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say.

"I…I'm sorry. For whatever happened, to make you do that."

"Do what?" he said, feigning ignorance.

She was clearly growing increasingly annoyed by his attempts block her, so she continued pushing, with both intensity and sensitivity.

"Daryl…I know you've been through a lot. I know that scar is about three or four weeks old. I know you are the only one who smokes in your group. And I know that you are right handed."

He simply swallowed thickly, watching her. She stepped towards him, and her hands began to float towards his, but she stopped herself and simply said, "If you don't want to tell anyone, I won't force you. But I'm not an idiot and you're not invisible."

He wanted her hands to be around his again. He hadn't been able to look at his own hand without feeling shame and weakness since he had branded himself. But with her hands framing the mark, it had seemed less cowardly.

"I…" he began, then cleared his throat. "I…my brother, Merle…he wasn't a good guy…he tried to do the right…he…someone forced him to turn." He continued, staring at the concrete.

She raised her fingers to under his chin. He flinched away at the contact, but lifted his eyes to meet hers and kept talking, the words flooding out of him in incoherent phrases. "I had to put him out…my brother…we left him there…he didn't fit…and Beth…Maggie's sister…" he could feel his breath catching in his throat, dry sobs breaking up the phrases, "they…took…her…that bitch…shot her…we…too late…tried…harder..."

Rylynn began to worry about his erratic, ragged breathing, the way his eyes were squeezing shut.

"Daryl? Daryl, listen. Listen to me. I need you to open your eyes."

He shook his head sloppily, trapped in the images of Beth dying, Merle as a walker, Hershel being executed, the car with the cross, the man holding down Carl as Rick watched…

"Daryl!" Rylynn was beginning to panic. Several members of the community had experienced flashbacks and elements of post-traumatic stress disorder, and she had been able to help them through those, but they had been behind the walls of the town, in their homes and surrounded by support, not out alone on an abandoned highway.

Then the first moan came from in front of them, travelling down the stretch of the highway. The second one quickly followed. Rylynn looked up from the man next to her and saw at least six or seven of the walking dead shambling down the broken asphalt.

"Shit, Daryl!" she shouted. That seemed to snap Daryl out of it enough, at least to the point where he looked up, confused and dazed.

_Focus, remember some of the training! _She chided herself. But that had been almost four years ago! _Sensory, sensory focus is key. If he isn't responding to auditory input…_

She carefully, so as not to startle him, wrapped her arms around him, one across the back of his shoulders, another around his waist. "Come on, we have to go!

They both stumbled backwards onto the soft forest floor, and Rylynn immediately began looking around for a safe hiding place. There were plenty of trees in the area, but they were tall and thin, with few branches to hold onto. Rylynn knew that Daryl's focus would be shoddy for a while after his body and mind recovered from the flashbacks- she couldn't risk him falling out of a tree.

"Daryl!" she whispered, crawling back to him and forcing his face up so he could see her. "Daryl. Are you ok?"

He was still clearly distraught, but his focus and awareness was coming back.

"Daryl, you had a flashback. You probably don't remember the last few minutes. It's ok," she reminded him, knowing the news could be a bit jarring. "It's ok," she repeated, grabbing his hand with his. "But there are walkers coming down the highway, we need to hide. The trees won't hold us."

Daryl shook his head, trying to clear the fog from it. _What was she saying? Hiding place. Walkers were coming. Trees are out. Focus. _

His survival instincts began to kick in. he began furiously digging into the soft, wet soil beneath them. She caught on quickly, and began digging the shallow ditch as well. Within a matter of seconds, they had one deep enough to lie down in where they could pile leaves over themselves and remain relatively invisible.

The cold, wet leaves were soaking through Rylynn's thin layers, and she shivered against Daryl's side. He looked down at her, not knowing what to do. She had saved his life, that much he was sure of, and he was grateful. But he also didn't like owing her. She was confident and social and open…all the things he wasn't, would never be, could never be. And he resented her for it.

But at the same time, he admired her for it, and he felt himself drawn to her liveliness and her compassion and her stubbornness. But he didn't want to be.

Just like Merle, just like Beth…if you let people in too close, they disappeared. In this world, they disappeared violently. He wasn't sure he could handle it happening again, and he certainly had no control over stopping death, so he just stopped caring.

But looking at the strong woman, with fear and fire and determination in her eyes, laying under the mulch and the leaves next to him…he wasn't sure if he could stop the caring from happening, either.


	4. Rules of the Trade

**AN: Onward we go! Will the duo continue on their journey, or turn around and go home? What kind of training does Rylynn have that helps with flashbacks and PTSD? Can Daryl keep his emotions in check? And what is Rylynn's real name?**

**A big ol' THANK YOU to those of you who are following, favoriting and reviewing! **

The cessation of moans was followed by a few moments of silence, with Daryl and Rylynn's short breaths and the rustling of the leaves the only sounds to be heard. Finally, Rylynn turned her head to look at Daryl, who saw the movement and gave a curt nod. _It's clear. _

Rylynn rose to her feet and brushed the damp leaves from her body, with Daryl following suite. Her head swiveled to look up and down the decrepit highway, searching for any stragglers. She turned to her traveling companion.

"Good thinking," she acknowledged. He gave her another nod, and then jerked his head in the direction of her face.

"Ya' got somethin' there," he said. She looked puzzled. He reached up to her hair and plucked a soggy leaf from her ponytail.

"Oh, thanks," she said. "So, what do you think? Should we head back or keep going?" She wanted to know if he was feeling steady enough. She highly doubted that he would ever admit to anything other than being fine, but she wanted to put options on the table.

"Keep goin'," he said. "Still got plenty of daylight an' still need those parts."

They continued on in their original direction, a silence settling between them. Rylynn knew that she had gained some relatively major ground with this mysterious man, and she was coming to the realization that he was more than the grouchy loner he tried to be. She didn't want to lose that momentum with him.

"I'll trade you," she said, smiling at him. It was his turn to look at her, confused.

"Trade what?" he asked.

"An answer for an answer," she said. "Unless you wanted to walk the next two miles in total silence?"

Daryl had to admit that two miles of silence wasn't completely ideal, as most of the silences he participated in felt awkward. And, having the attention of the pretty woman couldn't be too bad, either.

"Sure," he said.

"But," she rushed, "they have to be of the same caliber! No answering an easy question and then asking a hard one."

"Fine."

"You go first."

He wasn't prepared for that. He had just assumed there was some answer she had wanted to get out of him.

A million thoughts raced through his head. _How did you get here? What was your group before? Did your family love you? Did you get an education, unlike me? Why are you so confident? Why don't you like guns? Why are you talking to me? Why are you trying so hard?_

But instead he settled for, "Where did ya live before…all of this?"

She gave a small smile. "Before the end of the world, I lived in Colorado. Right outside of Denver, to be more precise."

"What brought ya out here?"

"Ah! Nope!" she laughed. "One answer for another answer! You don't get two in a row!"

"Fine. Go then."

She chewed on her lip, scrutinizing him with those laughing eyes. Finally, her eyes got wider.

"Got it! Where did you learn to fix bikes?"

He shrugged. "Just being around em. My brother Merle, he had this bike. I had it until…" he trailed off. She watched his face, concerned that this had not been a good game after all. But he kept going. "I worked in some shops, before. Just picked it up."

She nodded, accepting his answer as satisfactory.

"Now tell me how ya ended up out South," he dove straight in. She gave a small laugh at his speed.

"My little sister was in school out here. I came down for a week in the summer to stay with her, and that's when all hell broke loose."

He almost asked, "Where is she?", but remembered the rules she had set. So instead he said, "Your turn."

Her mouth scrunched to the side, her eyes studying him carefully. He almost laughed at how ridiculous she looked, but caught himself and instead turned his eyes to the concrete, pretending to focus on kicking up loose gravel with his boots.

"Why do you dislike me?" she finally asked. He looked up in surprise; she wasn't looking away in shame, and she didn't seem uncomfortable or self-conscious. She just seemed curious.

"What?" he responded, half in surprise, half in an effort to get more elaboration.

"You are always trying to get rid of me, you snap at me, and you push me away," she said matter-of-factly. "Why?"

He was the one to look away in shame. He didn't dislike her- he didn't mean to be so hostile. Everything she said was technically true. She was just a bizarre creature to him, so full of positivity and confidence and ambition. She was so unlike anyone he had ever encountered. But he didn't know how to respond to that kind of energy and light, so he just treated her like everyone else.

But there was no way in hell he could say that to her. He was painfully aware of how pathetic and weird it sounded in his own mind. So he went with…

"It ain't you. Just like that with everyone."

She sensed a cop-out, as he suspected she would. "Bullshit. If you were like that with everyone, you wouldn't have your group. Rick wouldn't trust you so much. Aaron wouldn't invite you out for scouting with him. Tell me the truth."

The defensive part of his mind wanted to snap _That is the truth! _But his growing, empathetic, social mind whispered _Tell her the truth. _

"Ya…you're weird," he said, and she promptly burst out laughing. He blushed and inwardly cringed at his poor phrasing.

"I'm weird. Fair enough," she grinned widely.

"Not like…ya are different. Everyone in this damned world has shit, is jumpy. They're afraid. And ya ain't. Ya don't carry a million weapons."

"Neither do you," she pointed out. "Just the crossbow and a knife."

"Ya kept doin' what ya were doin' before all this," he continued.

"You are, too," she persisted.

"Ya ain't afraid of other people," he insisted.

"And you are?"

"It's different."

"How?" she challenged. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it. He had no answer ready for that.

"That's another question," he covered. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine then. Go."

He was silent for a few seconds, wondering what to ask her. Then it dawned on him.

"I said ya were doin' the same thing before all this, and ya' didn't correct me." He said. "You're a runner now, right? Ya were a runner before?"

She shook her head. "Running was just a hobby, something my sister and I did together. I was decent, but not a professional."

"So what did ya' do?"

Rylynn held up two fingers, smirking- two questions. She went ahead with hers. "How are you and I different in not being afraid of people?"

He sighed. "I dunno. I ain't afraid of no one cuz I have a group, and we have guns, and we got each other's backs, see. Ain't nobody that can hurt us easily. And ya…" he trailed off, trying to put his finger on how to describe her fearlessness. "Ya let everyone in. Ya aren't afraid to socialize, to connect. Ya aren't afraid that they will hurt ya with trust, or with words."

He looked over and saw a puzzled quality to her eyes, so he tried one more time.

"I ain't afraid of dyin', see. And ya ain't afraid of living."


	5. Give a Man a Warning

**AN: Thank you for all the fantastic support! A particularly observant reviewer noted that Rylynn calls zombies "walkers", but no one from Rick's group has done so in front of her. Great point! I'm not entirely sure where to go with that note- does anyone have any ideas? **

**Onwards and upwards. Straight to where we left off…**

Rylynn stared at Daryl, his uncharacteristically profound comment momentarily stunning her. Daryl was inwardly chiding himself.

_Why'd ya go and say something stupid like that? Sounds like complete bullshit off some dumbass greeting card! Now she's gonna think ya some cheesy asshole who's just tryin to creep on her…_

Finally, after a few silent steps, she found her voice again.

"I…I suppose that's a very accurate statement," she admitted. Daryl looked at her, shocked at her reaction. "I am not afraid to live…because we're all going to die."

This was still not the reaction Daryl was anticipating. Rylynn seemed to be made of optimism, not dark thoughts.

She looked at him for reassurance to continue. He continued looking at her, his face blank.

"I mean…right? That's what this world keeps showing us. No one is safe, and we're all going to die. We're all going to have to be put down by a friend or a family member," she continued, her calm demeanor slipping as the words rushed out of her mouth. "So why be afraid of it? Why be afraid of taking advantage of all our time NOT doing that? I mean, each moment I spend running, meeting people, talking to you…they're moments I could very well have spent as a walker, or dead. I don't see life as something to cling to- I see it as a gift."

She looked back over to him. He was still watching her with those same intense eyes that felt like they saw under her skin. For the first time in a long time, she felt self-conscious. She thought that, after all his group had revealed going through, after all his losses that he had spilled to her…she thought that her words sounded naïve and fantastical.

Her bravado fading, she muttered to the ground, "At least that's what I think."

He sensed her loss of self-assurance, and decided to help his companion out.

"Ya see talkin' to me as a gift?" he asked, a teasing tone slipping from his lips. She looked up, gave him a fleeting, grateful smile, and then playfully shouldered him, causing him to tilt off balance and take a stumbling side step.

"Hey!" he joked. "That ain't fair, ya got to give a man a warning."

"And you have to give a warning when you whip out a sense of humor from nowhere," she returned. He gave a silent chuckle.

She suddenly veered off the side of the paved road onto a single-lane dirt path. "The shop is down here," she said. He followed her lead, a ghost of his smile lingering on his face.

Rylynn had been right; this shop was barely touched. _Most likely 'cause of that hidden road, _Daryl thought as he rummaged through the garage.

"How'd ya find this place?" he called out to Rylynn, who was sorting through the front desk.

"On a run," she responded. "Probably about two weeks after Aaron brought me to Alexandria. Back then, I ran just to stay outside of the walls and keep my skills sharp."

He nodded in understanding. "Know what that feels like."

"Yeah? You guys creeped out by the suburbia charade?" she asked. "I mean, sometimes it's nice. But most of the time, it feels forced."

He grunted in agreement as he dug through filters.

"If…" her voice faltered again. It was so unlike her usual "plow ahead" tone, that it stood out sharply, even to Daryl. "If you…if you ever feel like, trapped, or anything, you can always come running with me. It's a great way to stay in shape, and find some great places, I mean…of course, I mean you or, or anyone in your group, of course."

They made eye contact again, Rylynn searching for reassurance and Daryl trying to see if she was being serious. His inner voice was kicking in again; _'Course she don't wanna spend time with a roughed up redneck freak like ya. She just needs an extra pair of eyes and another body to stay safe. Anyone with a lick of sense can see that. She said anyone in the group, not just ya. _

"I'll let the group know," he merely responded after a pause.

"Thanks," she said, and handed him a piece of equipment. "Here's that plug you were looking for."

He took the offered piece and stared at her as she walked back to the box she had been rummaging through. Although her running tights were caked with mud up to her calves, her shoes dragging leaves through across the store floor, her ponytail now slouching and sloppy, he felt like she continued to amaze him.

"Think that's about it," she said, dumping over the empty box. She extended a hand to him, and he grasped it and got up from the floor. She handed him the backpack, now bulging with mechanical parts, which he swung over his shoulders.

"Let's go, Angel," she winked at him, and swung open the door.


	6. A Name for a Name

**AN: Thank you for all the kind reviews and support! Rylynn is a fun character to develop, and Daryl is a bit of a challenge to write, so I am thrilled to hear that most of you are enjoying them on paper. I know my chapters are short- I want to give you guys consistent updates, as much as I am able to, so I tend to write a few pages and post them up. Hopefully this works alright. **

The run back was uneventful, especially compared to the journey there. The backpack thumped heavily against Daryl's back as he ran alongside Rylynn, but he was determined to keep that fact to himself. In his opinion, she had already seen too much weakness from him.

Rylynn seemed content to trot along, half a step ahead of him as she looked around at the fading leaves and brilliantly-blue sky. Daryl saw her mouth curve into a soft smile, and he followed her gaze up to the trees. Two squirrels were sitting on the long branch of an oak tree. Daryl's first instinct was to reach for his crossbow and shoot them for dinner; but his crossbow was back behind the wall, and they seemed to make Rylynn happy, for no apparent reason, so instead, he focused on keeping pace with her.

Her stride was long and consistent, only changing when she bounded over a crack in the concrete or dodged the occasional shell of a car. Once again, Daryl was painfully aware of how awkward his gait was, and try as he might to justify it as the weight and bulkiness of the backpack, he knew that he was just plain awkward compared to Rylynn. Her movements were fluid, as if she had anticipated them thirty seconds before and proactively, gradually moved into place. He was reactionary, dodging potholes and focusing solely on his movement in that exact second.

He was so transfixed at her grace and control that he lost track of his thoughts and surroundings, which was nothing short of uncharacteristic of him. He trusted her judgement and her direction, which made no sense to him, but he let his mind rest as he trudged alongside her.

That was, until she stopped rather suddenly, and he smacked straight into her shoulder, throwing her off balance.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, surprised by her sudden loss of balance and newfound momentum. He grabbed her shoulder, partially to keep himself from falling forward and partially to try to keep her upright at the same time. She grabbed his hand on her shoulder to steady them both.

"You good?" she asked, her eyes dancing in amusement again.

"Why'd ya stop?" he asked, trying to frame her movements as the ridiculous ones, as opposed to his.

She shook her head at him and pointed forward. They were about ten yards from the walls of Alexandria.

"We're back, genius. Isn't situational awareness a big part of hunting?"

"Shut yer mouth," he muttered, causing a small laugh from her. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

She was about to fire off a teasing question about what, or rather who, he had been watching, when she saw the blush coloring his cheeks already. She closed her mouth and let the opportunity go. Daryl might have a tough exterior, but she knew that underneath he was self-conscious about his social inexperience.

She settled for, "Whatever you say, Angel," as they walked through the gate together.

"Will ya stop with the nickname already?" he mumbled to her.

'Why?" she asked. "I like it!"

"I ain't an angel," he responded.

"Okay then, Satan," she retorted, trying to appear serious.

"I'm warning ya," he almost growled.

"Oh no, a warning!" she dramatically feigned being distressed. "Not a warning! I've never been warned before!" She dropped the act and playfully elbowed him in the side. "Come on, it's a nickname! It's a sign of friendship and comradery."

"Ya don't drop it, I'll give ya one, too," he lamely countered.

"Oh please, I'd like to see you give me a nickname I'm ashamed of." She rolled her eyes.

He looked her over and glared, trying very hard to come up with something she would hate.

"Blondie," he tried. Andrea had hated it when Merle had called her that.

She gave him a look that clearly said, _that's the best you can do? _He sighed and continued his studying.

"Tights," he tried again, eyeballing the running pants she was wearing. This time she laughed, frustrating him further.

"Daryl," she chided. "Everyone in this town calls me by the first name they got out of me. I already have a nickname, and you already call me by it. So you're stuck with Angel."

"Over my dead body," he snapped. "Knives," he tried again. She rolled her eyes.

"Nicknames refer to something subtle about that person, something you have to get to know about them. Not the painfully obvious that anyone can see."

"Anyone can see my vest," he pointed out triumphantly.

"True. But I'm not calling you 'Wings'. I'm calling you something I had to discover about you."

"Well ya don't tell nobody here nothing about ya!" This game was becoming increasingly unfair in Daryl's eyes. "Even Aaron don't know yer real…" he trailed off, and then his eyes flew up to hers, excitement shining in the blue depths.

"I'll trade ya," he said, echoing her proposition from earlier that day. A grin split her face as she recognized the reference.

"Trade what?" she bantered back, leaning in to playfully challenge him. He leaned right back; this was his chance to level the playing field.

"A name for a name," he said. "I find out yer real name, an' ya have to call me by mine."

Her eyes danced in delight.

"Sure." She laughed. She stuck out her hand to shake on their agreement. He took her hand in hers and shook. Their laughing, competitive eyes met for a second, and the space between them seemed simultaneously too far but devoid of enough air. Daryl quickly let go of her hand and cleared his throat. Rylynn visibly bit down on her lips.

"I've got to go," she spoke first, heading off towards Aaron and Eric's house. "But I think it's only fair to tell you, my dear Angel, that I do believe you have started a game you cannot possibly win."

For once in his life, Daryl was alright with the idea of losing. The process of playing was already satisfying enough for him, he thought, as he walked down the street with the words "my dear" echoing in his head in time with his footsteps.


	7. Shoes in the Bathroom

**AN: Thank you all again for all the views, favorites, follows and supports! Daryl now has a quest! Rylynn's real name could literally be anything! Don't fret over his poor chances- he might just get some hints along the way. **

**I also had a request for some more information on Rylynn's nickname. Yes, "Rylynn" is a name of an actual, beautiful guitar piece, played by Andrew McKee. Please PM me for the link, or you can simply youtube that information. **

**My other chapters are relatively short, because I write them after work on the weekdays. This one will be longer, because I have today off. Hurray!**

**Onwards and upwards**!

Darly happily spent last two hours of sunlight on the floor of Aaron and Eric's garage, tinkering away at the bike with the recently acquired parts. As the white walls of the space became tinted with the golds of the setting sun, Daryl heard the house door open, and Aaron's tennis shoes appeared at eye level.

"How's it going?" his friend greeted him.

"Fine," Daryl responded, twisting a final lug into place and sitting up. "Went out and got the parts I needed with Ry earlier."

A small smile appeared on Aaron's face. "I heard. She stopped by a while ago to tell me she didn't see any replacement vehicles on the way."

"Nah, didn't see much. Ran into a herd, but nothing' else."

"Glad to see you both got back safely. I know Ry can handle herself just fine, but I felt better with her having someone else out with her."

_Ya got it backwards, _a mildly resentful voice said in Daryl's head, but he kept the comment to himself.

"Did she get your entire life story out of you?" Aaron asked, laughing a little. Daryl shot him a confused look.

"She has a tendency to do that; people just seem to spill their guts to her," Aaron said. "I think she had me and Eric's history out of me within an hour of her talking."

Daryl shrugged, but the resentful little voice kept going. _She didn't get the whole story, just the worst parts. _

"Well, anyway, we're about to lose daylight so I was checking to see if you were still here. I wanted to see if you were going to Pete's house later, for the party."

"Another party?" Daryl scoffed. "Don't y'all ever do anythin' else?"

"WE," Aaron corrected him. "You and your family are part of this now. And it's his son Ron's birthday today. Awkward timing, I'll give you that, but every kid deserves to be special once a year."

_Not you, _the voice hissed.

"Your whole family is invited, of course," Aaron added. "I sent Ry over to invite them when she stopped by."

"Ry's gonna be there?" Daryl asked, trying to sound indifferent. Aaron fought to keep the smile off his face.

"I hope so, because I asked her to pick up a gift on her previous run from all of us."

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. Since everyone else is."

Aaron smiled widely and clapped Daryl on the shoulder as he walked back inside. "Fantastic. See you in a few then."

Daryl suddenly forgot his nervousness when he, just as quickly, remembered the trade he had proposed to Ry.

"Ay, Aaron," he called. "Got a question for ya."

"What's up?"

"Ya said Ry didn't give ya her name when she came here."

"That's right. We just call her after that guitar piece."

"But did ya ever find out what it is? Her name?"

Aaron paused, contemplating. "I don't think so. I mean, she's never told us to call her anything else."

Daryl frowned. "Never even saw another name…I dunno, like in her house?"

Aaron shook his head. "No, I've never been in her house. I…I'm not even sure anyone else has been over. She's always outside."

Daryl huffed in frustration.

"Why?" Aaron pried. "What's so important about her name?"

"Nothin'," Daryl deflected. "Just curious."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Daryl, hurry up!" Carl hollered, pounding on the bathroom door from the hallway. Carol walked out from one of the bedrooms, investigating the cause of the noise.

"Carl, what's wrong?" she asked. Carl looked at her and rolled his eyes.

"We were supposed to be over at Ron's like ten minutes ago, and I have to get my shoes from the bathroom, but Daryl IS TAKING FOREVER TO SHOWER," he yelled the last few words straight into the door.

"Buzz off," Daryl retorted from the other side of the shower. Carol sighed.

"Thank God he's finally showering," she told Carl.

"I can hear ya!" Daryl hollered. Carl laughed. The door cracked open, and Daryl's hands appeared with Carl's shoes. He chucked them at the boy's general direction, one colliding with Carol's knee as Carl jumped to avoid being hit by the other.

"Daryl!" Carol yelled in protest.

"Take ya damn shoes," he responded as he closed the door again.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The group was gathered in the living room, idly catching up from their day apart, when Aaron and Eric knocked on the door. The group followed the duo down the street, with Sasha carried out the chocolate chip cookies, and Carl looked excitedly at the bike with the bow that Eric was wheeling along.

"Is that for Ron?" he asked.

"Yep! Hopefully it fits him," Eric responded. "Ry brought it back from a run for him, and she dropped it off a few minutes ago. If you like it, you might ask her to keep an eye out for another one."

Carl looked embarrassed at the idea of asking for something as frivolous as a bike. "Nah, I wouldn't want her to do that. She could bring back other stuff that we need."

"Ry would be thrilled for a reason to run more," Eric promised him. "Right, Daryl?"

Carl turned to Daryl. "You went out with Ry today?"

"Yah," Daryl responded. "Why?"

"Ron says she's the best runner they've ever had. He said, once, that she came back with fifteen pounds of food in her pack and was rolling a spare tire for the camper!"

"It's true," Eric said. "We needed all of those things pretty urgently. Her old running partner had knee issues and she went out on her own."

"Wouldn't know nothin' 'bout that," Daryl said. "I carried the parts today."

Eric and Carl both laughed as the troupe reached the front door of their destination. Rick knocked, and the door flew open almost immediately.

"Rick!" Jessie greeted the leader happily. "Welcome!" She looked past him to see the rest of the crowd. "Aaron! Eric! Maggie! Everyone! My goodness, we are so happy you came! Come in!"

She stepped aside to let them past, and they filed into the house. Deanna, Reg, Aiden, and many other members of the community were already gathered inside. Julie went off to show Sasha where to put the cookies, and Pete snuck out front with Eric to hide the bike in the garage.

Everyone was dressed in nice, pressed clothing. The house had white walls and clean, tan carpeting, with family photos and polished wood tables. Daryl was keenly aware of how out of place he seemed in his long hair, dark jeans, black shirt and leather vest. He went over to a chair and started to sit down, but then saw that everyone else was standing and slowly, so as not to draw attention, straightened back up. He looked around for a member of his group, but saw that they had all dispersed among the rest of the partygoers. Carol was chatting with Sam, Ron's little brother. Rick was conversing with Maggie, Glen, and Jessie. Carl had already broken off into a group with the younger members of Alexandria. Daryl looked around awkwardly, leaned back against the wall, and then thought better of it and stood upright again.

"Daryl, come here for a second!" Noah called from the food table, where he was standing with Aaron and Reg. Daryl's eyes darted around, and then he carefully crossed the crowded space to the young man.

"Aaron was telling me that you're pretty close to having that motorcycle fixed up," Reg said.

"Ah, yeah." Daryl nodded. Reg paused, waiting for him to go on.

"Ah, oh, yeah, I have 'bout an hour or so left, maybe. The shock absorbers on the front of the frame need…"

The front door creaked open, and Rylynn stepped through, grinning broadly.

"Ry!" Sam shouted, hurrying away from Carol and launching into Rylynn's arms. She caught him in his flying leap with one arm and hugged him tightly.

"Hey bud!" she said. "Happy birthday!"

"Ryyyyy," he laughed as she put him back on his own two feet. "It's not _my _birthday, it's Ron's!"

"Is it?" she teased. "Well then what did I get this Sam dinosaur for?" She produced a tiny, plastic stegosaurus from the front pocket of her jeans and snuck it into his hand, giving him a wink.

"Thanks," he loudly whispered to her. He noticed that she was keeping her other arm behind her back.

"What's that?" he asked, peeking around her as she turned to block his view. "Did you bring it?!"

She smiled and produced a box wrapped in paper from behind her back. "This?"

He was visibly disappointed as she handed it to him. "Aw man, a present for Ron?" He walked it obediently over to the couch, where a few other gifts lay. "I thought it was…"

He turned back around, and his face instantly lit up. She was standing there, holding an acoustic guitar that she had produced from its hiding spot on the front porch.

"YES!" Sam hollered, catching his mother's attention.

"Sam, watch your voice please!" she called over, and saw Ry standing there. "Oh Rylynn, come inside! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you arrive!"

Rylynn stepped further into the house, closing the door behind him. Her eyes caught Daryl's as she scanned around the room, and a secret smile played across her lips.

"No worries, Jessie. I have quiet feet."

Daryl gave her a joking glare at the inside reference. She grinned back and crossed the room, smiling and greeting people she knew along the way.

"Reg!" she exclaimed, and the old man opened his arms out to him. She hugged him tightly. "Deanna finally let you out of the house?"

"I broke out, I kid you not," Reg jested as Rylynn turned to hug Eric warmly. Daryl gave her a greeting in the form of a tight smile. She rolled her eyes at him and hugged him, then let go before he had a chance to process what was happening.

"I see you brought the guitar," Eric said, gesturing to the instrument in her hands.

"Yep. I thought it might be nice to wind down the evening with," she said.

"Are you going to play your namesake?" Reg asked. "It is always such a beautiful piece."

"Maybe. I'm open to requests," she said. "Birthday boys get first picks, though."

She was wearing a fitted black t-shirt, a blue and green scarf, and dark jeans. Her two-toned hair was half pulled into a pony tail, half draped down her shoulders. Daryl noticed that she wasn't wearing any makeup at all, and her largest knife was tucking into her waistband. She looked up at him, and he hurriedly looked away before she caught him staring.

She leaned towards him and whispered, "Having fun yet?" He just gave her a look.

"Haven't decided," he muttered back, and she gave a small laugh.

"But Daryl," she said, even lower, "look at all the people talking about whiskey and painting their bedrooms a different shade of tan. They're all complimenting each other on the state of their front yard."

He wrinkled his nose. "Guess we can't talk anymore, livin' right down the street an' all."

She gave a bark of laughter. "Speak for yourself. My house looks nothing like this."

"How so?"

She smiled, almost to herself. "I don't know…it's not so…clean. Like, clean-cut. It's all so fake, you know? Their guns are hidden from view. They have old photos from back when we had printers. They worry about having platters for the food."

He looked around and saw all the shiny, shallow components.

"Michonne's sword is over out fireplace," he said suddenly. Why did he share that with her?

"My knives are all on a magnetic strip in the kitchen, where all the fancy Japanese chef knives are supposed to be," she responded, then looked at him expectantly. _Trade. _

He felt his entire body and being relax, forgetting the unfamiliar surroundings and falling into this increasingly familiar game with her. "My crossbow's on the towel rack in th' bathroom."

She giggled. "Um…my mattress is on the back porch. That's where I sleep."

"We have a bag o' guns on the roof behind th' chimney."

"I have a backpack of canned food and granola bars in the tree in my backyard, right over the bird feeder."

"Ahh…" he was running out of things to say. "Carl's shoes were in the bathroom."

She gave him a bewildered look. "What?!"

He shrugged. "I dunno, it came to mind, 'cause I threw em at him earlier."

She started cracking up. "That is so random but also hilarious. I can see it now. You guys are such a family. I'm almost jealous that I don't have someone to toss shoes at."

He cocked his head at her. "It's just ya in that house?"

"Yeah," she said. "I didn't come with a group, and there were a lot of empty houses, so I got my own."

Daryl thought about what it would be like to have an entire house to himself, and couldn't quite picture it. He had always shared his space with other people, whether it be the tiny trailer house with Merle and their parents, or the cell block, the farm, the camp grounds, and the large house with his group.

"It's a little lonely sometimes, and it feels like such a waste," she said. "Four bedrooms and one me. But I'm over at Aaron and Eric's a lot, or out running. So it all works out."

"Aaron said he ain't never been over to yer place," Daryl commented.

She frowned, concentrating. "No, I guess he hasn't. Never really thought about it, to be honest. But anyone is welcome anytime. I like the company. I guess I'm just rarely there."

He nodded, understanding.

"I have to say," she said, turning to face him, "I'm surprised you are here. I didn't expect you to come, and all cleaned up, nonetheless."

He shrugged. "Figured why not."

She playfully nudged him. "That's the social spirit, Angel." He nudged back at her use of the nickname, so she shoved harder. He leaned into her to block her momentum, and she grazed his shoulder and fell forward. He grabbed her by the shoulders to stop her fall and she laughed as he fought back a similar reaction.

Across the room, Carol and Rick were watching the pair.

"Isn't that that girl who came by last night?" Carol asked. Rick shook his head in disbelief, smiling.

"I believe it is," he responded.

"She's pretty," Carol noted approvingly. "Not that any of that really matters anymore, I suppose."

"Deanna told me she's a good person," Rick added. "Goes on runs on her own and brings back whatever they need. Never causes any trouble."

Carol continued watching as Rylynn said something to Daryl that caused the man to scrub his eyes over his face and finally let out a quiet laugh, which led to Rylynn giggling even more.

"Good for her," Carol said, a proud smile crossing her face. "And for him."


	8. Trust Her

**AN- A great, big, genuine THANK YOU for all those taking the time to try this story out! I appreciate it so much.**

**To the guest reviewer Sah, yes, your reviews are coming through ****. **

**Many reviews have enjoyed the light-hearted nature of the first few chapters, but now things are about to get a bit more real, in the sense of "The Walking Dead" real…**

**Onwards and upwards!**

For the next few hours, Rylynn flitted to and from Daryl's side, interacting with every person at the party. She seemed to know them all by name, family, and profession, but something else about her contacts with them caught Daryl's eye. As soon as Rylynn would approach a couple or a group, the other people would immediately, physically open up their circle to her. Many of them genuinely seemed thrilled that she was there, and more than one person warmly hugged her in greeting. The young teenagers seemed to be just as delighted as the old folks that she was talking with them. When she asked how they were, instead of the customary "I'm fine, how are you?", they seemed to talk openly about how they truly were doing.

Rick had joined in the conversation with Noah, Reg and Carol, and he noticed his right-hand-man's eyes following the woman around the room. Rick's mind was preoccupied with the potential overtaking of Alexandria, and he was concerned that Daryl might have an upcoming conflict of interest. On the other hand, Daryl's preference towards Rylynn, Aaron and Eric might mean that Alexandria had some merit worth investigating.

He leaned over to Daryl and quietly said, "What do you think?"

Daryl was startled and quickly asked, "'Bout what?"

Rick nodded discreetly in Rylynn's direction. "Can she be trusted? Is she a good person?"

Daryl was somewhat uncomfortable with Rick's questions. "Why?"

"Just like always, we need to know who we can and cannot trust. Can she be trusted?" he repeated.

"She's useful," Daryl said neutrally. "She's got athletic abilities, an' she knows everyone here."

Rick leaned in closer, trying to convey the seriousness of the inquiry. "Daryl, do you trust her?"

"Man, I barely even know her," Daryl said, growing increasingly agitated at the questions. "Why do ya gotta know right now?"

"Because," Rick whispered even lower, "something may go down tonight, and I need to know where she stands."

A protective urge towards the woman was bubbling in Daryl's chest, combating with his constant state of self-preservation. "Why don't ya ask her ya'self? I don't think she's as loyal to the community as some of 'em, but I dunno. She ain't one of us."

Unbeknownst to Daryl, Rylynn was having an eerily mirror conversation with Deanna, who had stopped her as Rylynn was passing by in search of Sam.

"Rylynn! I was happy to hear that you and Mr. Dixon were able to spend some time together today on a run," Deanna said, a somewhat forced smile on her face.

Rylynn's face immediately dropped. "Who, you mean Daryl? Yes, we were able to talk and get better acquainted." She said plainly.

"And…what do you think about our new members?"

Rylynn rolled her eyes, and the smile did not return to her face. "Deanna, your political act may fool everyone else, but I thought I made it pretty clear that it doesn't hold the same effectiveness on me. What do you want?"

Deanna dropped the act and straightened her coat. "Alright, Rylynn, fair enough. Their preacher came to me earlier and suggested some things that have me doubting how much we can trust them, and how well they fit here. Did you see or hear anything from Mr. Dixon that would suggest he was right?"

"I won't pass judgement on anyone who survives in this world, Deanna," Rylynn said sharply. "We've all done questionable things, trusted the wrong people, and lost ones we love out there. But there are a few boundaries I will not cross. I told you when I came that I will not break people's confidences, and I am keeping to that."

"I am not asking for his details or the details of anyone else in that group," Deanna said, her hands up in a defensive position. "I'm simply asking if you feel they can be trusted."

"I can't say either way," Rylynn responded, crossing her arms and frowning.

"I'm not asking if you trust them, because it's obvious that you trust nobody." Rylynn opened her mouth to protest, but Deanna put up a finger to silence her and continued on. "Oh, I know, you talk to everyone in this town, and they all share their entire lives with you within a matter of minutes. But that's them trusting you. You never reciprocate; it's a one-way relationship. You don't even trust us with your name, let alone your security or your future!"

Rylynn smiled smugly at the leader. "If you're trying to make me protect myself by defensively turning the accusations on another person, like, say, Daryl, it isn't going to happen. Don't try to use psychological tricks on me, Deanna," she said as she turned away, finished her statement over her shoulder. "You'll lose that game, and that's the last time I'm going to warn you."

Rylynn hadn't really had another destination in mind when she exited the conversation, so she simply followed the closest hallway and ended up at the back porch door. She opened it quietly, closed it just as carefully behind her, and let out a sharp exhale into the warm night air as she leaned over the railing.

She heard the latch click behind her a few seconds later, and wheeled around, knife in hand, to find Daryl behind her. He flashed his hands up, showing he wasn't a threat. She sighed and put her knife back in her waistband.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya," Daryl said.

"No no, it's fine, I'm just a bit tense."

"I, uh…I saw yer conversation with Deanna over there. Didn't catch any of th' words or nothing, just saw it didn't go well," he admitted, as he leaned over the railing too, a foot away from her. She kept her eyes out on the lawn, avoiding making eye contact.

Finally, she said quietly, "I guess your preacher friend said some things to make her doubt your group. She wanted to know if I had gotten any information out of you on our run."

Daryl felt panic tighten his chest. The things he had let out on the run…those might be enough for Deanna to want to kick them out.

"What did ya tell her?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the response.

She laughed bitterly. "Don't worry, Daryl." She finally looked over at him and gave him a soft smile. "Anything anyone tells me is in total confidence, unless they share a concrete intent or plan to harm themselves or others. Plus," she almost snarled, "I've not trusted a lot of people, and Deanna is one of the people I am least inclined to trust. There's something fake about her, how hard she tries to appear like she's got it all together…" she shook her head. "I dunno, maybe this world has made me paranoid."

"So ya told her ya trust us?" he asked, a small amount of guilt eating away at him.

She lost some of her smile, and shook her head. "I don't know anyone else in your group that well, Daryl. I don't see any reason to distrust you, as an individual. And you seem to have good judgement." She cast an angry look back towards the door. "I do know that I trust you and your group more than all those people in there." She turned her eyes back to him, and they instantly softened. "I'm sorry that I can't give you more than that."

He felt his chest tighten, and his fingers itched to reach out and brush over her hands, her small nose, her soft gold and brown hair. But instead, he said, "Be right back," and hurried back into the house. He rushed through the hallway and weaved across the crowded living room to the kitchen, where Rick was arranging a food platter with Julia and sneaking crackers to make her laugh.

"Rick, can I talk to ya for a sec?" he asked. Rick put down the cheese spread and came over to his family member.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Earlier, ya asked about Ry, and if we can trust her," Daryl said hurriedly. Rick nodded in response.

Darlyl continued. "If ya gonna try to take over this place, or we gotta leave…she's with us."


	9. Something Like That

**AN- In the spirit of the season finale tomorrow, I am attempting to post two chapters this weekend! Additionally, I will be out of town for the next two weeks as I celebrate my recent engagement with my family in California! So my apologies in advance, as it is unlikely I will be posting while on vacation. Maybe you guys will get a few chapters out of the plane ride over!**

**Onwards and upwards!**

Daryl returned to the porch after relaying his decision to Rick, and found Rylynn now sitting on the railing of the porch, shoes kicked off and bare feet swinging in the moonlight. He resumed his previous position, leaning down with his arms crossed over the railing. This time, he dared to be within six inches of her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, eyes still set up at the night sky.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just remembered something I had to tell Rick."

A silence settled between them, with Rylynn staring up at the starry sky and Daryl watching her feet kick back and forth slowly.

"She said I don't trust anyone," Rylynn whispered, so quietly that Daryl almost thought she hadn't actually spoken at all.

"Who? Deanna?" he asked. Rylynn wordlessly nodded.

"She said," Rylynn continued in an uncharacteristically soft voice, "that everyone tells me everything, and I tell them nothing. It's a one-way street."

Daryl didn't know how to respond. This soft, uncertain side of Rylynn was something he hadn't imagined was inside the dynamic, confident woman.

"Oh," he said, mentally kicking himself for such a pathetic, unhelpful answer. She looked over at him and saw him flinch at his own response. It was endearing to her- he really wanted to try, he just didn't know how to.

"What do you think?" she said, guiding him in the proper direction.

He rolled his lips between his teeth, and she felt bad putting him on the spot.

"Never mind," she rushed. "Screw Deanna," she said, back straightening. "She'll make her own decisions, and I'll make mine."

Daryl recognized her walls of self-assurance going up. Suddenly, he saw the similarities between them. _I ain't afraid of dyin', see. And ya ain't afraid of living. _But the truth was, he was afraid of watching others die, and she was afraid of living alone. They were both liars, trying to put up fronts that were the opposite of their true selves.

"Why don't ya tell nobody yer name?" he asked, instead of responding to her final statement. She smirked and gave him a mock seductive smile.

"Because I'm mysterious," she cooed, and then rolled her eyes. "Plus, it's going to be way more fun to watch you figure it out."

"I ain't never gonna figure it out, and ya know it," Daryl pointed out. "Ya haven't ever told anyone here, and there are a million names ya could have. It's impossible. An' yer smart, ya know it is."

She nodded in acknowledgement of his truth.

"I guess I'm not ready to reveal everything to an Angel I just met yesterday," she shrugged.

He was shocked as he realized that she was also speaking the truth- they had only been introduced yesterday. He felt like he had known her for a lifetime, as if she had been there at the farm, at the prison, at the grassy meadow where he put down Merle, at the hospital when Beth had been shot, in the barn where Aaron had found them.

As she sat there, her attention turned back to the stars, he decided to take a risk. He had always been the guarded one, the one to hold everything in secret. But this was a woman he, for no good reason, trusted. And he wanted her to trust him, because he felt like they could. Because who knew what Rick was planning, or when Deanna would make her decision. _She's with us. _They might not ever have a chance to talk like this again, and their lives may depend on trust someday soon.

"I'll trade ya," he said. She smiled broadly, not taking her eyes off the sky. "But," he continued, "on some terms."

"What are your terms, my dear Angel?" she jested at him, swinging her legs skyward. His heart stuttered at the phrase, but he swallowed his nervousness and plowed through.

"I'll tell ya something about the group and our past," he explained, "and ya tell me some clue to yer name."

Her face split into a full, toothy grin. "I accept these terms and conditions. You start."

He leaned over the railing again, deciding on what to start with.

"Lil' Ass-Kicker," he began.

"Rick's little baby?"

"Yeah, Judith. Her mom died givin' birth to her. At a prison we had for a few months. Carl an' Maggie were in the room. They were cut off from the rest o' us by walkers. Maggie delivered her and Carl put out his mom. Rick ain't ever been the same since."

Rylynn nodded, chewing over this bit of information. She accepted it as worthy and said, "My parents were hippies. They preferred 'bohemian'. Like, my mom was born into a hippie family, but my dad was the rebellious son of corporate bigwigs who never outgrew his 'phase'. So they named myself, my sister and my brother a bunch of hippie names."

He thought hard about her clue. "What, like 'Moon' an' shit?"

She laughed quietly. "Somethings like that. But Moon is not correct. Your turn."

There was a pause. He didn't want to give out anything too personal about single members of the group, in case they wanted to choose if Rylynn knew things about them.

"There was, ah, this guy. The Governor, called himself. We had the prison and he had this town nearby, kinda like Alexandria. This guy was unhinged, man, just crazy, violent. He wanted us gone, no reason for it…"

He trailed off. He wasn't sure, now that he had started, why he had chosen this piece of information. While the loss of the prison had happened long ago, and they had gone through so much since then, the prison still felt like a lost home, more so than any other home he had ever had.

Rylynn saw his hesitation. She extended a hand and rested it on his shoulder.

"Hey, Daryl," she murmured. "It's ok. He took your home. I get it. You don't have to say it right now."

He looked into her eyes, filled with gratitude. "How do ya do that? Know what people are thinkin'?" he asked.

"Are you forfeiting a name clue for the answer to that one?"

"Aw, common', Ry, just…" he faltered again_. Just what? Just talk with me? Just tell me? Just fall into my arms an' tell me yer life story and abandon everythin' and join my group that's fallin' to bits? _the voice in his head sneered.

Her answer took over his focus. "I was…a teller at a bank as a job, before the world went to shit. But what I really wanted to do… I was studying psychology, specifically counseling and therapy for PTSD."

"Ya went to college?" he inquired. She nodded.

"Bachelor's degree and three semesters of a master's," she sighed. "With about 100 hours running group therapy for homeless veterans." She gave an ironic laugh. "I was going to have to do at least 300 more hours, plus at least three more semesters, before I was legally allowed to even apply for counseling jobs. And then the dead rise, and suddenly I'm more than qualified to take on an entire world of patients."

He stared at her, suddenly intimidated. She gave him a frown. "Oh come on, Daryl. Don't do that. That's exactly why I don't tell anyone anything, especially that I studied psychology! They start freaking out and acting weird."

He shook his head, almost as if to get rid of the thoughts. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It ain't the psychology part, it's the college part. Ya were really smart. Like, educated and everything."

"Doesn't count for anything now," she replied. "This world makes equals out of us all, if you really think about it."


	10. Hippie Names

**AN- I am on a roll right now, so expect to be bombarded with a lot of chapters. Like, this is the third one I've written today. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

"Tell me something about your brother," she requested.

That one was easy. "Merle was my older brother…an' a jackass," Daryl said. "He met Rick and Glenn right at the beginning o' all this hell, and was mouthin' off, causin' issues just to cause issues. Rick handcuffed him to a roof, and th' key got dropped… Asshole sawed off his own hand and got away."

"Holy shit," Rylynn said, amazed. Daryl fondly shook his head in disbelief of Merle.

"Tell me 'bout your brother."

Rylynn took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I've never told anyone about them. I mean, my sister was with me for the first few months…" she stopped talking for a long while, still staring up at the glittering stars. Daryl watched her carefully, noticing a struggle flitting across her features. He was about to suggest a different topic when she suddenly launched herself off the railing and onto the soft grass. He immediately straightened up, preparing for her to bolt.

Instead, she turned to him and held him in a serious gaze.

"Daryl, your group isn't staying here, is it?" she asked. His eyes flew open in surprise.

"I…I don't know," he stuttered. "I…I feel like Rick has somethin' planned. Maybe for tonight, maybe tomorrow."

She looked down, nodding, taking in the information. "I think Deanna is spooked and feeling threatened by your family, and how close and loyal you all are. I don't know when she will act, or exactly what she will do. But she will do something, eventually."

Daryl also turned this information over in his head. "What should we do?" Rylynn always knew what was going on, and she always had the right reaction so far. She had to have a plan.

"We can't do anything," she said bitterly. "We are standing at the edge of a cliff, and Deanna and Rick are the ones who have to send us one way or the other. So I guess, we stay alert and we take advantage of the time we have left in safety."

Daryl ran a hand through his hair, gripping at his scalp. "Damn it!" he growled. "So what, we jus' wait around and collect weapons an' food and WAIT!?"

Rylynn rushed over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Shh, Daryl, keep your voice down, please!" she hissed, looking over through the house windows to be sure that the partygoers hadn't heard him. The festivities were continuing on as if the world wasn't about to erupt.

He aggressively shrugged her hand off of him, and she at first was hurt. But as he paced angrily around the yard, she recognized the fears and the hurt she was feeling, too. The dashed hope of trusting the wrong people with the wrong dreams. The anger of never catching a break, of feeling like the world was punishing you a hundred times over. And mostly, the frustration of having just found a home and having to lose it so quickly.

She could only amend one of those tonight. It meant opening up her heart to this man, this relative stranger who had made no promises to her.

But, she thought, if everything was going to go to shit soon…it may as well truly be everything.

"Daryl," she said again, softening her voice and holding her arm out to him again. He stopped pacing and stared at her outstretched hand as if it was some alien creature. She took a step closer, and lowered her hand to his. He was watching her intently, but made no moves to pull away. So far, so good. Slowly, almost as if not to spook him, she slid her fingers around his palm one by one. Her throat was dry and her pulse was racing, but she did every movement with the same control and fluidity as her running. He looked up from her hand around his to her eyes, afraid that breaking contact would mean breaking the moment.

"Daryl," she started again. "Come to my house. Deanna will probably start watching yours, but I don't think she'll watch mine too closely. I already have a bunch of supplies saved away. We can make it a safe house. When the moment comes to, we'll be ready."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rylynn hadn't been kidding when she said that her house was not fake like Pete's. Daryl marveled at her planning and her capabilities as soon as he stepped in the door. The kitchen was relatively bare- one pot, one pan, and one fork. Like she had revealed, a series of survival, pocket and utility knives covered the magnetic strip meant for cooking utensils.

Instead of bar stools lining the raised kitchen counter that overlooked the living room, several backpacking packs, stuffed with supplies and topped with sleeping bags and tents, were tucked under the bar. The fireplace was covered in an assortment of firearms, and the bookshelf placed against the back wall held ammunition rounds instead of magazines and photos. The pantry was stocked with non-perishables, all kept in duffel bags for easy emergency movement. Daryl peered curiously behind another door, and found a small wardrobe hanging over an open suitcase. The clothes varied from tiny running shorts to long winter coats, all durable and in good condition. A peek behind the last door revealed a dark garage hiding a red and black Jeep Wrangler with several guns and stuffed duffels already in the trunk.

"That yer ride?" Daryl asked, eyeballing the vehicle.

"Yep!" Rylynn said, beaming. "One of the perks of getting to retrieve vehicles on foot is calling dibs on the ones you see first."

"What's upstairs?" He was almost afraid to ask.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "No clue. I never needed the space up there. See anything I'm missing for your group?"

He took another look around. "Nothin' major. Mostly just more o' everything, 'cause of how many people we got."

She nodded in agreement. "We'll have to get that as gradually as possible, to avoid suspicion. If shit goes down tomorrow, grab everything you guys can from your house and get over here. If shit takes longer to go down, I can hide a lot of stuff from my runs."

"Okay, sounds good." He paused, not knowing how to ask the question on his mind. She saw his discomfort instantly.

"Just spit it out, Angel," she chided.

"Are…are ya' gonna come with us?" he blurted out. She was taken aback. His entire group could be out in the infested world in less than 12 hours, and that was what he was worried about? It was touching, but also reminded her that she had stuck herself between a rock and a hard place.

"I…I don't know, yet." She admitted. Se shifted her weight from one foot to another, and then turned to the sliding glass door behind them and slid it open to reveal a screen-in back porch. Her mattress, true to her word, was between the glass door and the screened windows. She sat down heavily on it, feeling weighted by the decisions before her. "This isn't a home to me," she acknowledged. "But I also don't really know anyone in your group. Neither makes any sense."

She looked up at him with lost eyes, and he crossed over to the mattress and sat across from her.

"I get it," he muttered. "Ya got nothin' holdin' ya here, and ya' got nothin' to gain from being with us."

She gave him a half-smile. Here goes everything. "Well, not necessarily nothing to gain."

He simply stared at her. She rolled onto her stomach, lying across the mattress. She took off the scarf from around her neck, fiddling with it.

"Who knows," she said to the scarf. "Maybe I'll try to intervene between you all and that will be the end of it."

"No it won't," Daryl said immediately, not taking his eyes off of her. She smiled down at the fabric in her hands.

"No matter what, it's the end of the Alexandria version of this world. We'll be onto the next version, at some point. What would you do if you knew that this life you know was about to end, Daryl? Seeing as it is, and all?"

He mulled it over. "I'd prepare for the next one. Make sure that everythin' I can take care of is taken care of, an' then…get wasted," he said, recalling the last night he has spent with Beth. "Or blow something up," he added, remembering the last moments at the prison. "What would ya do?"

"Leave everything on the playing field, I guess. If I'm going to lose everything…I want to have some part in it. I want to lose fearlessly," she said with a determined tone. "But right now, I'm still afraid."

"Yer not afraid," he scoffed. "I ain't gonna believe that ya can even be afraid."

"I'm afraid of people," she whispered. "I'm afraid of the power they have, to make you feel pain, to take things from you, to make you feel special, to make you feel love…" her eyes flickered up to his. He held her gaze. "So I don't feel those things here."

"'Cause ya don't want to. Ain't no shame in that," Daryl voiced.

"Because I'm afraid to," she admitted. "You said today that I wasn't afraid of living. But you were very, very wrong, Daryl Dixon. I'm deathly afraid of having people to live for." She laid her head down on the mattress, over the scarf and next to his hand.

"And if I follow you and your group," she continued, her voice muffled, "I'm afraid that's exactly what I'll find. I _know_ that's what I'll find. I'm afraid that I've already found it."

The power of her vulnerability and the trust she showed in him did nothing short of blow him away. Here he was, the least friendly, least transparent person she could have chosen, but she still chose him to share those feelings and thoughts with.

_Trade, _a different voice in his head insisted. It sounded like hers.

He slowly, hesitating, lifted the hand near her head off the mattress, and then carefully lowered to her head. He expected her to snap her head away, but instead he felt her relax under his palm. Uncertain of what to do, he gently combed his fingers through her hair. This was certainly something he had never done before, and the silkiness of her hair transfixed him. She held still, letting him tangle his fingers for several minutes before he found the courage to speak.

"Co.." he rasped, his voice catching in his throat. She lifted her head to look at him in confusion.

"What was that?" she asked. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Come with us," he said. It was not a request, and not a demand. It was simply a statement, a fact that was now out in the world.

She cocked her head at him, a smile gracing her lips.

"Are you sure?"

He wordlessly nodded.

She took a deep inhale, and then sat up right next to him. She whispered "Thank you", and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Daryl thought he might throw up out of nervousness, die of shock, and float away out of elation all at once. But she wasn't quite done yet. She moved so her face was directly in front of him. She was staring so intensely at him, as if she could read his mind through his blue eyes, that he lowered his gaze and fiddled absentmindedly with her fingertips, which were resting on her knee.

"Daryl," she whispered, and he looked back up at her, but did not let go of his light touch on her hand. She gave him a small, easy smile, which he felt himself reciprocate.

"My father's name was Adam," she told him. "Not very bohemian, as he would sometimes lament, but he kept it because of its ties to Adam in the Bible, who nurtured the Garden of Eden."

He kept his eyes fixed on hers, transfixed, but grazed another of her knuckles with his finger pad.

She kept going. "My mother's name was Jade, like the blue stone. She had eyes like yours." She reached up to his face with her free hand and barely touched the side of his temple, smiling at the resemblance.

"My brother's name," she said, shaking her head, "was Skye. He loved having a unique name when he was little, but when he got older he tried to get people to call him by his middle name, Trey, but it never caught on."

"My sister," she said, lowering her hand from his face to run her hands across the scarf, "was this incredible force of energy. She seemed to float whenever she walked. She just bounced off of obstacles; nothing phased her. I don't know how, but my mom must have seen those qualities when she was born, because her name was Echo."

She grinned at him. "Those are the biggest clues I can give you. My parents saw our family as a team unit, so everyone in my family matches because everyone has four letters in their names. My parents believed my siblings and I were of the same 'earth energy', so our names have to do with air and the sky."

"Ya aren't gonna just tell me?" Daryl asked, disappointed with the progress of the name but not with everything else.

She slyly shook her head. "Not yet, Angel. But I trust that you will figure it out."


	11. Swept Away

**AN- What is Rylynn's name? I have had some great guesses in my PM inbox and the reviews, but none have gotten it correct! **

**Again (like a malfunctioning Pandora app), I greatly appreciate all of the feedback and views. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Onwards and upwards!**

A soft knock sounded out in the empty house. Daryl was instantly on his feet and instinctually reaching for his crossbow, which was nowhere to be found. He had left it at the house, after Carol suggested that it wouldn't be appropriate to show up to a party with it. He cursed the amount of naïve trust they had put into this place so quickly.

Rylynn was on her feet as well, and she had her large knife in hand as she eyeballed the front door. The knocking came again, and a young voiced called in, "Rylynn? Are you home?"

Rylynn let out a sigh and put away her weapon as she quickly crossed the living room and kitchen. She unlocked the front door and pulled it open to reveal Sam standing there, her guitar in both of his small arms.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" she asked, both concerned and affectionate. He looked down, afraid that he had made her upset.

"I'm sorry, I know it's late," he said to her doorstep. "I just saw that you left your guitar and…I didn't want you to worry about it."

She rubbed her fingers over her eyes and got down on her knees so that she was eye level with the young boy. "Thank you, Sam," she finally said, taking the guitar from him. "That was very considerate of you. I would have never worried about it, though, because I know you would have taken great care of it for the night."

He beamed at her praise. "Yes! Yes I would have!"

"Come on, Sam, let's let Rylynn rest," Jessie called out from the street. She had walked over with her son in the dark. Sam obediently went back to his mother, and waved good-night to Rylynn.

"Night Jessie, night Sam," Rylynn called out as she closed the front door and latched it again. She was examining the instrument as she crossed back over to the mattress. Daryl hovered around it, unsure of what to do.

"I uh….suppose I should get goin'," he murmured. "It's late an' all."

She strummed her fingers across all the strings, the chords reverberating around the porch.

"Daryl," she said, instead of responding to his suggestion. "How long has it been since you've heard music?"

The question stunned him. It seemed irrelevant, with the world on edge and the uncertainty they were living in.

"Dunno," he said.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, you said you wanted to go home, and I ignored that. That was rude of me, and I apologize."

Her bluntness stunned him. No one had ever apologized for much to him, and certainly not for _ignoring_ him.

"'S nothin' to apologize for," he responded, still swaying back and forth on his feet.

"Of course it is," she admonished him, looking straight at him. "You are worthy of respect."

The statement made him uncomfortable, even embarrassed. Very few things he had done in his life were respectable; Rick was the respected man in the family, not him.

She noticed his discomfort. "Very few people have told you that before, am I right?"

"No one has," he muttered, still studying the floor.

"All the more reason to listen to me when I say that you are," she said matter-of-factly.

He didn't want this focus to be on him. Her intensity and her confidence made him inclined to believe her words, but the voice in his head was inching into the conversation.

"Ya any good at that?" he asked, gesturing at the guitar.

"No, I'm terrible," she joked. "The truth is, I've been holding all of Alexandria captive and forcing them to be my unwilling audience."

He shook his head at her and let out a small laugh. She grinned back and gestured to the opposite side of her perch.

"If you want, you can judge for yourself."

He hesitated. He didn't know what staying there meant. He wasn't sure he could resist her close presence for much longer, and her sweetness was starting to feel intoxicating.

But leaving…leaving felt like a physically impossible task. Every fiber in his being didn't want to leave. It was only that stupid little voice that was driving him to the door. _Sure, stay. Who are you kidding? She'd never, in a million years, want to be with you. A woman who even looks like that would never look twice at you. She's probably this nice to everyone. Everyone loves her, that's part of her game. You're no exception; you're nothing special. _

"Daryl?" she asked, looking to him for an answer. She saw several emotions flicker through his eyes, not the least of which was fear. Was he afraid of her? This strong, capable, ruthless hunter, scared of her, a lean, flighty, social... glorified delivery girl?

"Daryl," she said again, this time more assertively. "Let me play you something. I haven't played it for anyone here. And if you want to go after that, you don't have to say anything. It's enough that you'll even listen."

He took a deep breath, and sat down on the opposite diagonal of her. She made no comment about the space, but simply took up her instrument and began to play.

The chords were soft and gentle, pattering back and forth between themselves with the occasional inflection. Mild builds and gradual falls lent to a calm, rocking rhythm with obvious folk roots.

And then she opened her mouth, and barely above a whisper, began to sing.

"Well you send my life a whirling

Darling when you're twirling

On the floor

Who cares about tomorrow?

What more is tomorrow?

Than another day.

When you swept me away

Yeah you swept me away…"

She shyly ducked her head up to gauge his reaction. He was focused on her, his mouth partially hanging open. He voice was quiet and high, as if she had sung that way since she was ten years old. She sounded innocent and sincere, full of hope.

"You said with such honest feeling

But what'd you really mean

When you said that I'm your man

Well how my darling can it be

When you have never seen me

And you never will again

That you swept me away

Yeah you swept me away…

Well you send my life a whirling

Darling when you're twirling

On the floor

And who cares about tomorrow?

Girl, what more is tomorrow?

Than another day.

When you swept me away

Yeah you swept me away

Yeah you swept me away."

She played a few final chords and then set down the instrument in front of her. She reached across the mattress and took his hand in hers.

"Thank you for listening, Daryl," she said quietly, and the leaned across and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He felt his eyes slide closed and his face press back into her lips for the fleetest of seconds, releasing when she pulled back. She let go of his hand.

"Good night, Angel," she winked. He slowly stood up, feeling uncoordinated and disoriented. He went back into the house and crossed to the front door as she set the guitar inside next to the bookcase of rounds. It almost fell over, and she caught it and set her attention to placing it properly.

He had already unlatched the lock and his hand was on the knob when an unexpected surge of courage went through him. If Rick was going to try to overthrow the town tonight…or if Deanna showed up in the morning and told them to pack up… he wanted to make sure that Rylynn was going to choose his group, his family.

He crossed back through the kitchen and into the living room in two strides and was beside her. She straightened up from the guitar, looking at him with questioning eyes. Before he could lose his nerve, he curled one finger under her upturned chin and turned her face slightly. He lowered his face to hers and pressed his lips to her smooth skin, kissing her exactly where she had kissed him.

He pulled away and promptly turned and practically ran out the door, hurriedly saying, "Night," as he closed the door behind him. If he had taken another half a second to turn around and look at her, he would have seen an enthralled smile on her face, her fingers raised to touch where his lips had just been.

**AN- For those curious ones, and to give credit where credit is due, the song Rylynn played and sang is the Avett Brother's "Swept Away" (Sentimental Version). **


	12. Know it to be True

**AN- Thank you all for your continued support! I have received a lot of great guesses for Rylynn's name, but they are still all incorrect! Keep at it! **

**Onwards and upwards!**

The morning sun cast long shadows across the floor where Daryl slept. After his visit to Rylynn's house the day prior, he had taken a page out of her book and moved the mattress from the tall bed frame to the hardwood floor under the window, and slept much better for it. He could hear a few other sets of feet moving about the house, and began pulling on his jeans and boots to start the day.

Typically, his thoughts would be of breakfast, and the day's work ahead of him, especially now that he had a project in the form of the motorcycle. This morning, however, his mind was being invaded by echoes of Rylynn's voice and the soft chords of the guitar. He shook his head to clear it as he headed down the stairs.

"Morning," Sasha nodded towards him from her perch on the second-to-last stair, gun in hand as per usual. Daryl grunted a response at her as he passed by, and ruffled Carl's hair as he passed by the boy in the hallway. He entered the kitchen and saw a few plates of assorted appetizers out on the counter, presumably from the party that he and Rylynn cut out from. Rick looked up from a chair at the counter as Daryl snatched up an apple, some small sandwiches, and a few patties of hamburger.

"Good morning," he said to the hunter.

"Mornin'," Daryl replied, bread crumbs falling from his mouth.

"You missed quite the party last night," Rick said, watching his friend with interest. "Duck out early?"

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. "Wasn't my scene."

Rick wasn't buying it. He turned back to his coffee but added, "Rylynn seemed to agree with you."

Daryl was getting sick of Rick's interfering, and he wasn't fond of how Rick was being evasive with his own plans, either.

"Man," he tossed a patty back on the plate, "whatcha problem with her? Ain't like she done nothing wrong to us."

"You said she was with us last night," Rick reminded him.

"She is!"

"Why?"

That stunned Daryl for a second. "Whatcha mean, 'why?'?"

Rick looked right into Daryl's eyes. "Daryl, we're brothers. You have brothers and sisters here that we protect. Folks who have been through hell with us and kept us alive, too. And we are a family because we are careful with who we trust and who we bring in." Daryl maintained eye contact with Rick the entire time. Rick continued on, seeing he wasn't phasing his brother. "I know Rylynn is beautiful, and she obviously has a lot of people under her spell here. What you have to be sure about, is when you say she is with us…is that because you _know_ it to be true, or because you _want_ it to be true?"

Daryl was mildly offended. Deanna and Aaron had trusted him to choose who entered Alexandria, but Rick was doubting his first call. "I know yer heart is in the right place, man. But why don't ya try showin' a little faith in yer own 'brother'?"

He got up, grabbed his crossbow from the back of the chair, and swung it up and over his shoulder. "If ya have do many doubts, why don't ya go over and decide for yerself?" he challenged as he headed for the door.

Rick closed his eyes and sighed deeply as the front door slammed shut. The talk hadn't gone as well as he had hoped, although probably as well as he had expected.

_Although, _he thought, _I might take his advice about going and judging for myself. _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rylynn's orange and black shoes rhythmically collided with the pavement in time with the song she was singing under her breath.

_One __**strike **__comes __**strike **__of it__** strike**__, love it__** strike**__ love it __**strike**_

_Let__** strike**__ go of __**strike **__it, __**strike **__love __**strike **__comes from__** strike**__ it__** strike**_

_We're __**strike **__not of __**strike **__this world__** strike**__ for long __**strike**_

_Faith__** strike**__ and promise __**strike**__, keep me__** strike**__ honest…__**strike**_

She came to a sudden halt, her voice falling off the end of the word as her house came into view and she saw a figure sitting on her front porch. The figure saw her, too, and held up a hand in the way of greeting.

"Good morning, Rick," she said as she came up her driveway, surprised that her second official visitor was the group leader.

"Good morning, Rylynn," he said, standing up to properly greet her. "I'm sorry to show up like this. If I'd know you were out, I would…"

She waved her hand at his apology and cut him off. "No need for that, Rick. I'm not into the whole 'let's pretend the formalities of the world are intact' act. What can I do for you?"

He shuffled his feet a bit, suddenly uncomfortable with his quest. "Ah, well, I'm just trying to get to know all the neighbors. You know, get a feel for the place."

She nodded politely, and then said, "And by neighbors, do you mean the people Daryl has vouched for?"

He looked even more uncomfortable now that she had called him out.

"Rick," she said bluntly, "quite frankly, none have us have much guaranteed time anymore, so let's not waste each other's'. You want to know if I would side with your family when shit goes down, and I want to know that your family is reliable. So let's just be honest and give each other what we want."

Her bluntness both shocked and impressed him. No wonder Daryl was being drawn to this little spitfire of a woman.

He squared his feet again, starting over. "Fair enough. It seems that no one here know anything about you, and yet everyone trusts you. Seems like a shady arrangement to me."

"People need someone to confide in," she responded. "I am that person."

"I don't particularly care if you're useful," Rick said. "Usefulness only goes so far in this world. I need to know that you can be trusted, and it seems you purposely keep yourself a mystery."

She cocked her head to the side. "I do. I'm not overly excited about delving into my losses, reliving the horrors, and revealing my weaknesses to a bunch of strangers. Especially a bunch of dumbass strangers with a sanctuary like this," she opened her arms, gesturing around to the neighborhood, "who are going to get it destroyed."

"You must see that I can't just take your word for that."

"I do see that. What I don't see is how I can prove it to you other than in a pivotal moment. I will give you my word for now, that if you overthrow Deanna, I will fight with your family. And if they kick you all out for trying to make them see what the world really is, I will come with you. If you will have me."

He leaned in and looked her dead in the eyes. She didn't back away and didn't blink.

"How many of the dead have you killed?" he began.

**AN: Thank you for your patience! I spent the last week in California, looking at wedding venues and celebrating Easter with my CA family and fiancé, so I didn't have much of a chance to write. However, I wrote this chapter at 37,000 feet for y'all! **


	13. You're In

**AN: Thank you all for your favorites, follows and reviews! I apologize for the lag in posting, as compared to my previous speed. I have started a few new jobs, been travelling, etc. To reward your patience, let's continue with an extra-long chapter!**

**Onwards and upwards!**

Daryl and Rylynn didn't cross paths for several more days. Runs had her occupied beyond the walls, and Daryl spent several full days on the floor of Aaron and Eric's garage. On the fifth straight day, he had been so close to finishing the motorbike at sundown that he asked Aaron if it was possible to get some source of artificial light, even for an hour. Aaron and Eric had obliged him by holding flashlights for him while sitting on the garage floor, occasionally chatting about old times. Daryl had even joined in at one point, laughing at Eric's story about his high school mischief and volunteering a story about Merle hiding drugs in the locker of the student body president. While he was pretty sure that his story telling left something to be desired, the conclusion had Eric rolling on the ground in laughter and Aaron held both flashlights and shook his head at his partner.

True to his word, Daryl finished the bike within the hour, and Aaron and Eric cheered him on as he took it for a test run around the sleepy town. Pulling back into his friends' garage, he couldn't help but smile at his work. It felt good to fix something and have it be under his control to keep it that way. Aaron clapped him on the back in congratulations.

"This is fantastic," he said happily. "We can double our search efforts now! And if we can get Rylynn to come along, we can have pairs make contact and still have a backup!" Aaron turned to Eric and gestured to his injured foot. "When you're all healed, we can even have two teams!"

He turned back to the newcomer. "Daryl, how do you feel about going out on a two day search tomorrow morning? I know you guys only got here a little over a week ago, but I really want to re-establish the search grid I had going before."

Daryl nodded. "Sure, man, 'morrow works jus' fine."

Aaron let out an excited breath. "Wonderful! Thank you, so much, Daryl, for doing all this work."

"'s no problem."

"Alright! I am completely amped now, but let's call it a night and meet here tomorrow at sunup to get some provisions and try to be on the road within the hour. I'll run over to Rylynn's and let her know the plan."

Before he could stop the words from jumping out of his mouth, Daryl heard himself say, "I'll tell 'er. Her house's on the way."

Aaron tried to contain his knowing smile but failed spectacularly. "Well, alright. Thanks!"

Daryl nodded a goodnight to the two as they headed back into their house and then set off down the dark street. He kicked absentmindedly at the pavement as he thought about what to say when he showed up at Rylynn's door.

_I came over with a message from Aaron 'bout a search tomorrow that he wants ya on. Ya in? Oh and I'm goin' too._

_I got the bike fixed so Aaron and me gonna go on a search m'orrow and we wanted ya to go to. If ya want. Ya don't have to. _

_Hey, I came by to say that Aaron and I are gonna go out on a search tomorrow, so ya wanna come along and sit in a car with us for two days and drive in th' woods? Only I'll be on the bike. Cuz I fixed it. _

The more he tried, the worse he sounded in his own mind. Before he could find a, well, less awkward, way to communicate the information, he found himself at her front door. He nervously adjusted his vest and then knocked.

He heard a few footsteps, metallic clinking, and then the bolt lock sliding right before the door cracked open.

Rylynn peered through and then saw the hunter. She smiled broadly and swung the door open wider.

"Daryl! Hi!" she greeted, smiling. "I didn't expect to see you out after dark." She stepped back and gestured for him to come in, and he obliged.

"Was over at Aaron and Eric's, fixin' th' bike," he explained. He was trying very hard not to notice that she was casually dressed in raggedy grey sweatpants that loosely cut off at her calves but clung to the curves of her hips and behind. Her top consisted of the same black t-shirt he had seen the night before, and her hair was thrown into a sloppy, lopsided ponytail.

_In your dream, _the voice mocked.

She led him into the kitchen, where she had been cleaning her knives. "How did that go?"

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and said, "What?"

"How did fixing the bike go?" she reiterated.

"Oh, fine. Got it done."

"Nice!" She grinned. "Not that I had any doubts, of course."

He shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet, uncomfortable with her open praise and confidence in him. "Aaron said…I mean, he sent me…well, I was comin' by yer house anyhow…"

He looked up at her, silently begging her to give him an out. That knowing smile appeared on her face, but she settled against the counter and watched him instead of answering his unspoken plea.

"Ah…" he tried again. "Aaron and I are goin' out on a run for a few days, an' he wanted ya to come, too." He inwardly flinched, realizing that he had said _Aaron_, not _we_.

She picked up on his phrasing, too, but decided to let it slide. "Sure thing! I'd love to come out with both of you."

_Coward, _the voice hissed. _She has no problem including you, what's yer problem?! _

"I assume you'll be on the bike?" she asked, pulling him back to the present. He nodded.

"Great! We should have enough room in the back of the Outback for my bike, then," she called as she walked with purpose into the hallway that led to the garage. Daryl took a step after her, then faltered, wondering if he was meant to come with her.

His reverie was answered when Rylynn's voice echoed through the house. "Daryl! Come help me with this, will you?"

He made his way through the hallway and found her kneeling in front of a bike, the chain dirtying up her hands as she slipped it over a gear.

"Pick up that back tire and spin it, please," she requested. He crossed the garage where she was, and did as she had asked. The chain popped into place and Rylynn smiled, satisfied.

"Thanks," she said, gesturing for him to put it back down. He gently set the tire back on the floor, and when he straightened up, he found her smiling at him, her eyes fixed on his face. The corner of her lower lip disappeared as she pulled it between her teeth.

"What?" he asked, perplexed by her expression. She seemed to realize what she was doing, teeth releasing her lip, and she shook her head slightly, as if to clear it. A few loose strands of her ponytail fell across the back of her beck and in front of her nose.

"Nothing, Daryl," she reassured him as she moved back into the house, Daryl hot on her heels.

"Oh," she called back to him as they re-entered the living room void of furniture. "Rick stopped by this morning."

Daryl halted to a stop at this news. He had suggested the visit out of anger, not seriousness. He hadn't expected Rick to actually do it.

Rylynn turned to see Daryl literally stunned. She let out a laugh. "What? It wasn't your idea?"

"He kept pryin' into business that ain't his," Daryl snapped defensively. Rylynn raised her hands.

"Woah, Daryl, calm down. It's not that big of a deal. He's your brother, and your leader. I get his need to be up to date on things that involve his family."

"He didn't trust my call," Daryl grumbled under his breath. Rylynn could see that, under the apparent anger, the man actually was hurt that Rick hadn't taken his word on the matter. She took a step closer to him and carefully set her hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous, Daryl. It's not you he distrusts, it's me, and with every reason. I'm a stranger in a very unstable time and in an unreliable place. He did the right thing."

Daryl lifted his eyes to meet hers. "What did ya tell him?"

Rylynn thought back to the morning's conversation. "He was curious about why no one in Alexandria knows anything about me, and asked how he was supposed to trust me. I told him he couldn't, not until I proved it to him in an important moment, so until then, he would have to take me at my word."

Daryl was impressed. "What did he say to that?"

Rylynn tried to recall the strange, seemingly out-of-space questions Rick had asked her. "He asked me how many walkers I had killed. I told him I didn't keep track. Then he asked me how many people I killed. I told him 6. He asked me why. I told him that my mother, father and brother all turned on the same night at the first camp we were in, early on. I shot all of them. Echo went a few months later, and I put her out, too, to keep her from turning. The last two were two men who tried to force their way into Alexandria about two months ago, when Deanna had turned them out for crimes they committed."

Daryl immediately recognized the set of questions. "What did Rick say after that?" he nervously asked.

Rylynn looked confused. "I'm not sure. He kind of just nodded and then said to be ready to go if hell broke loose."

Before she knew what was happened, she was being engulfed in leather and jean material as Daryl wrapped his arms around her and lifted her partially off the ground. She partially yelped, partially laughed at the unexpected gesture and wrapped her arms around his neck in return.

"What are you doing?" she laughed as he set her feet back on the floor.

"You're in," he said, glee in his eyes. "Those questions're what we ask before someone joins. You passed 'em."

She stared at him in disbelief. "That's it? Just three questions?"

"Well, that an' my and Rick's ok."

"I mean, that's a little better, but I wish I'd known that when he was asking!"

He grinned openly at her. "Don't matter. You're one of us now."

She blushed at that statement. "It's an honor, really. Thank you, Daryl."

He was stunned suddenly by how close her face was to his; he could feel her small breaths under his chin, and the warmth radiating from those eyes was making his limbs go numb. His arms were still around her waist and shoulders, he realized, but they felt weighted and difficult to move.

"Welcome," he whispered in reply. He felt her fingers move in slow, tiny circles on his shoulder and neck. His eyes involuntarily flickered down to her lips, and then back up to her eyes, searching for reassurance.

_No way she wants this, _the voice mocked him. _No way she wants a bumblin', redneck idiot like ya. _

She saw him withdrawing into his head, the hurt and distant look on his face becoming more and more familiar.

"Daryl," she whispered quietly, looking earnestly at his face.

_Stupid, low-life, dirty piece of shit. Look at her, she's fuckin' perfect, too good fer you. _

"Daryl," he heard her again.

_She's gonna' tell ya' to let go, ya creep. _

"Daryl, Angel."

_Ya just dreamin' some deluded fantasty. _

"Daryl, I want this."

_She probably jus' takin' pity on ya, yer pathetic!_

"Daryl!" She was getting louder.

_Yer just a way to get into the group. _The voice was getting quieter.

"Angel, look at me, please," she called.

_She just gonna leave, walk out like everyone else. _It whispered viciously. _She just gonna use…_

The voice dropped out of existence as Daryl felt soft, warm skin push against his chin, his cheek, the corner of his lips. He refocused his eyes and found Rylynn searching his eyes imploringly.

"Angel, are you ok?" she asked quietly. He weakly nodded, wondering if the sensation he had just felt had been her lips or her hands, which were now cupping the back of his head.

"What happens when you go into your mind like that?" she inquired gently.

"Nothin', just…" he trailed off, disoriented and unsure of whether or not to bring the truth out into the open. He flexed his hands, feeling her waist and shoulders still under his fingertips. Her nails were softly raking through his long hair, and he was suddenly aware of how safe he felt, here in her arms, with her in his. He hadn't felt that way since losing the prison, since the dead began to rise, hell, maybe ever in his life.

Her statement from a few days ago came to him. _Each moment I spend running, meeting people, talking to you…they're moments I could very well have spent as a walker, or dead. I don't see life as something to cling to- I see it as a gift._

This moment was a gift, and if he didn't take advantage of it, he was going to prove the voice in his head right about being a coward. And for the first time in his life, he didn't believe in the voice. He believed in the woman in his arms.

He started again. "I…I hear a voice, in my head."

"What does it say?" she queried.

"Talks shit," he continued. "Says I'm worthless, piece of shit, no one trusts me…"

She put her hand up to stop him before he got caught up in recalling. "Ok. It's ok."

"Sometimes it sounds like Merle, or my old man," he stuttered. "Sometimes…sometime it sounds like me."

She nodded, understanding why he looked hurt now. She tightened her grip around him and moved closer, sliding one arm down to his waist and pulling him close. He stepped into her willingly, lowering his head to her shoulder and deeply breathing.

"How can I help?" she asked in his ear.

"Ya already do," he mumbled into her shoulder. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. "Ya make it go away."

She looked relieved and surprised, and modestly looked down at the carpet.

Being wrapped up in Rylynn, he felt like he had become engulfed in everything she was, too. His usual fear had been replaced by bravery, his awkwardness driven out by confidence. He had never felt this sure, this safe, or this steady before in his life, and he felt both intoxicated and clarified by it.

Before he could lose those newfound emotions, he dipped his head below hers and captured her lips in an off-centered but gentle kiss. Her eyes momentarily flew open in shock, but she quickly closed them and leaned into his lips, tightening her grip around him and flattening her chest into his. Daryl tightened his hold around her as well, and had to hold back a moan as he felt her lips move eagerly against his.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes still closed. She immediately opened hers, to gage his reaction. She let out a small laugh when his eyes remained shut. She tapped him on the back.

"Daryl, helloooo," she teased. His eyes slowly opened, and a shy smile that he was clearly trying to hold back broke through.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she smiled widely. She leaned in and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and pulled back before they both got lost again.

"So," she looked around at her space. "Since I'm part of the family now, should I move into one of your two houses?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. 's pretty cramped as is. We're used to it, but might be nice to have yer own space."

She nodded. "That's very true. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

"Kinda nice to have somewhere t' be away from all th' drama."

She looked at him, and noticed the bags under his eyes, scraps and grease caked onto his jeans, and dirt all over his hands. "Angel, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot you've been working all day! Do you want to head home?"

Daryl was taken aback. They had just kissed, and she wanted him gone already?

She immediately caught onto the hurt expression that bolted across his face, and hurriedly explained. "I don't want you to leave, Daryl," she admittedly fondly. "But you're covered in engine grease and dirt, and I thought you might be tired after all the work I know you've been doing on the bike. Plus we have an early start tomorrow."

He nodded, accepting her rational but not feeling particularly compelled by it.

"Everyone else'll be home by now," he noted. "Gets kind crazy in the evenings."

"I've never been, like, completely in your houses," she noted, walking closer to him. "What's it like?"

"Just like Julie's," he explained. "We all change where we sleep mostly, between th' two places. I usually sleep in th' first one. Sometimes Carl or Abraham sleeps there, too."

She recognized what he was alluding to. "Just because you're all family, doesn't mean you don't need a break from each other," she laughed. "I remember sharing a tent with Skye and our parents at the beginning of the outbreak. By the third week, all I wanted to do was have my own room with a lock on the door."

Her eyes floated upstairs. "I have extra bedrooms, I think. Upstairs. They might even have furniture in them, I never checked."

His brow crinkled. _Was she really…?_

"You can stay here, if you need a break. I have a shower and a bunch of extra clothes in that closet."

_She is_.

He shrugged in acceptance of her offer, and made his way to the closet before heading up the stairs.

Rylynn watched him go, and grinning, bit her lip in attempt to keep an excited squeal from escaping.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The duo reconvened in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, Daryl dressed in a baggy pair of black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, his hair wet from the shower and skin free of grease marks. Rylynn had whipped up a quick meal of toast, ground beef and tomatoes, and the two munched through stories of stupid things their groups had done to keep entertained. The conversation carried them all the way through the meal and cleaning the dishes, finding them sprawled out on Rylynn's mattress, the woman giggling madly as Daryl described the many uses for dominos they had invented in the prison.

"It was not!" she laughed, poking him in the side to get her point across.

"It was!" he protested. "Swear t' God, it was three feet tall and damn kids'd build a bridge cross the hallways and wait for us to run into em! Started leavin' em in the tombs, too, an' scared the shit outta us when we knocked em over!"

She shook her head in disbelief but laughter kept erupting from her lips. She looked so carefree and beautiful, her hair spread out under her head and face flush from all of their amusement. She rolled her eyes at him and he responded by dipping down and pressing a kiss to her lips. She kissed back running her tongue across his bottom lip and sending shivers straight to his spine. He pulled back and thickly swallowed, then propped himself up on his elbows and laid down next to her.

"You don't know it, but you're actually pretty smooth, Angel," she teased. He blushed and deflected the compliment.

"My name ain't Angel," he reminded her begrudgingly.

"And mine isn't Rylynn," she playfully whispered back. He turned to look at her face.

"Wind," he guessed. He had shared the clue to her name with Aaron and Eric, and the three had been brainstorming for several days. He had a list ready.

She shook her head. "Nope!"

"Lyra," he fired off immediately. Her giggles filled the room.

"What, do you have a list? No, not Lyra."

"Luna."

"Nope!"

"Cyan."

"Not even close!"

"Hope."

"Uh uh."

"Rose."

"That's my middle name."

"Serious? That counts!"

"It does not! Keep trying!"

He glared at her, determined to win. "Sage."

"Nada."

"Rain."

"Nope again."

He dropped his face down to the mattress, frustrated. She laughed quietly at his reaction.

Suddenly, her head was in his hand, and his left arm was snaking its way around her waist. She barely had a chance to gasp before his lips engulfed hers, passion pouring out of him. It wasn't the physical force or the warmth of the kiss that pushed all the air from her lungs and all the thoughts from her mind; it was the emotions that flooded between them, the alternating current of stability, attraction, trust and comfort electrifying what little space was between them.

The need for oxygen dragged them apart, his forehead resting on top of hers as they raggedly sucked in air.

He drew one shaking hand up to her forehead and traced his way down to her neck.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"Are you trying to coerce me?" she rasped back. "Because keep it up, it might work."

"I wanna know," he pressed on. "I wanna know who you are. Different from everyone else."

His simple declaration felt like it shattered her heart into a million wonderful pieces. She reached up and softly held his face in her hand, and then pulled herself up to kiss him again. Letting her head fall back to the mattress, she looked straight into his eyes.

"Daryl Dixon, you're stuck being Angel, whether or not you like it.

She took a visibly deep breath.

"But you certainly deserve to know the truth, because you are different to me than anyone else. So…my name is Star Rose Laudine."

**I greatly appreciate your patience! I will try my best to get back on a regular schedule of updating, but until then, please leave a review telling me what you think of Rylynn/Star, her name, and the progress between her and Daryl!**


	14. Stardust

**I have received mixed reviews for Star/Rylynn's name! Some of my reviewers like the new reveal, while others prefer the tried and true name. Let's give it some time to sink in, and see where that takes us. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

Daryl stared at his companion, who was nervously watching his face for any signs of a reaction.

_Star. Star Rose._

But of course her name was Star.

"Star," he repeated back to her, gazing fondly at her. She blushed and let out a sigh of relief, then nodded.

"Yep. That's me."

He tried picturing her with her hippie family, blonde hair being braided by a mother in long, flowing skirts. He tried to see her family home, probably filled with potted plants and recycled pieces of art. But the more he tried, the more he realized that he had little to no idea of what a normal family looked like, let alone a bohemian version.

"What are you thinking about?" she prodded, lazily tracing a finger in circles around his shoulder.

"Tryin' to picture you before all this," he replied honestly. She let out a short laugh.

"Why?"

He shrugged as best as he could propped up on his elbows. "Dunno."

She sat up, cross-legged, to better trace the bit of his tattoo peeking out from under his shirt. She had been afraid that revealing her name would have brought sorrow and loss flooding back into her life, but instead it seemed to carry a sense of relief. She was glad that someone knew about the past version of her, and bringing that version into the present had been much less challenging than she had anticipated.

"What do you want to know?" she asked him. He had begun to nod off, her light fingertips pulling him into a relaxed trance, but the rare invitation to explore her past was more tempting. He chewed over where to start, and decided on her recent revelation.

"Why'd yer parents name ya Star?"

She moved closer to him, running her hands along the back of his neck, abandoning her attempt to trace the image. "Instinct, I suppose. My dad, Adam, was incredible at reading people, and my mother, Jade, had a similar talent with what she called 'energy'. They sort of combined those abilities when naming us. Always the progressive couple, they kept from naming us until we were each, like, four or five months old. But it seemed to work."

A glowing smile appeared on her face as she delved into each of the family members. "Skye, my brother, was the oldest. Most people named Skye are after a Scottish isle, but Skye was named for the sky. He was an open person, and very emotional. He was so in tune to everything and everyone around him and he reacted to the smallest changes. My mother referenced to his sudden anger as 'sudden thunderheads' and his sadness as 'spring showers'."

The anger metaphor reminded Daryl very much of Merle, but he never had imagined Merle as anything close to being empathetic to the point of tears.

"What about Echo?" he asked, trying to refocus on her family.

"Echo was just like her name, too. She never lost energy- she bounced instead of walked, seemed to be as light as air. Everything she carried with her was based on where she came from- Jade. She and my mother were two kindred spirits like I have never seen again. They finished each other's sentences; they could have entire conversations with just a single look."

"And you?" he asked, wanting to get to the objective of his quest. She blushed, feeling awkward talking about herself.

"Adam said that they had a hard time naming me. Jade, Skye, and he tried for months. He said that it wasn't that my energy was hard to pin down, or that they didn't know who I was as a person, but that they couldn't find anything earthy to compare it to. They tried Sage, because I was calm and assertive, but that didn't seem right. Muse seemed too 'transparent', whatever that means. Rain was unpredictable…the list went on and on. I guess Skye was getting frustrated by my parents' attention being focused on me, because, according to Jade, one day he snapped and said, "If there's no Earth name for her, then she's probably an alien."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Doesn't it figure? My name came from Skye's young attempt at an insult. What he said stuck with Adam, and finally he and Jade realized that they felt I was many elements of Earth that were found in all things. And the only thing that has that quality is…star dust."

Daryl felt like he could imagine them all better now. Skye was the volatile, emotional storm, keeping everyone on their toes and aware of the world. Echo was the flitting around, bringing breath to the room. Adam was the introverted, observant, thoughtful rock. Jade was the bright-eyed, adventurous spirit with a dose of child-like wonder. And Star was the energy that illuminated them all, her power and confidence creating a foundation on which the others led their lives.

"What about you?" she asked, withdrawing her hand from his skin and almost earning a word of protest from him. "What was your family like?"

"Not like that," was his immediate response. "Nothin' even close."

He was clearly trying to end the conversation, but she squinted at him.

"Daryl, tell me. Please? Start with your brother."

"Merle. He is…was…my older brother. Only sibling I got…had."

"What's Merle like?"

"An asshole," was Daryl's immediate response, and Star snorted.

"Please do tell."

"He was… racist. Dumbass who always shot off his mouth. Couldn't keep outta trouble, always startin' shit. . Hated pretty much everyone, 'cept me."

"Why do you say that?"

"'Cuz it's just how it was. He ran into th' family- one I got now- an' started shit with T-Dog. Rick ended up havin' to cuff 'im to a roof to get 'im under control. We tried to go back for 'im, but the sonofabitch sawed off his own hand to get away."

"Seriously? Holy crap!"

"Yeah. We wrote him off as dead, 'till he turned up in Woodbury with this psycho dude, called himself the Governor. He fixed Merle up and gave 'im a blade for a hand, whole deal. Their group and ours had run-ins, turned into a war. Merle came over to us when the Governor tried to kill Merle and me, but before that Merle had beat the shit outta Glenn."

"Oh God…how did that work out?"

"Not well. I mean, I got it, both sides, ya know? But Merle wanted t' prove himself, went to kill th' Governor. Plan went south, ended up getting' killed by the bastard and I had to put him down."

He looked up to her for reassurance. Her eyes were filled with anger and sadness, but she was reaching for his hand all the same. He sat up across from her, and while he didn't reach out for her, he allowed her to place her hand over his and wrap her fingers around his palm.

"Please tell me the bastard is dead," she whispered. He nodded in response. She squeezed his hand.

"He did the right thing, in the end," she reminded him. He nodded again.

"Merle was the only family I ever had," he confessed. "Our parents…we wasn't even sure we had the same dad. But after we lost Merle in Atlanta, I was travelling' with this group, Rick's group, and I saw what it was like. Folks helpin' each other out, protectin' each other, even when it was more dangerous than just getting' out alone. Rick…he trusted me with his kids, with food and huntin' for the group, even with who got to join. We all got separated after the prison was taken, and when I found Rick and Michonne and Carl again, I'd joined a group o' bad men. They weren't brothers…they were just animals in a pack. We got away, and Rick called me his brother."

Star smiled. "What happened to lead to that? You must've done something amazing to earn outright recognition like that."

"Wasn't nothin' like that. It was my fault they was there in the first place. I watched 'em kill a man just for not followin' their rules. I let it happen because it wasn't me that was gettin' killed. The next day, they tried…they tried to do things to Carl…"

Star lifted a hand to her mouth to silence her gasp. She knew that people had lost a lot of their social morals, but she hadn't expected them to lose their humanity so easily. It was more than she could comprehend, that someone would do something so vile for sport to a child.

"Please tell me they are dead, too. Or else I swear to you, I will find them and make them suffer," she almost growled. He looked up at her in shock.

"They're dead," he promised. The fire died in her eyes, but only slightly. "I told them to kill me instead. They didn't. Seemed to be even more fun t' them when they knew I knew 'em. Rick got ahold of one of 'em, went right through his eyes…Michonne took another out. I got the shit beat outta me."

His haunted eye never left hers. "I owe Rick. I couldn't stop those guys, and he still calls me brother."

Star lifted a hand to caress his face. "Daryl, listen to me. Those men are not your responsibility. There was nothing different anyone could do, no matter how much love exists between them. You are Rick's brother for all the good you have done, not the evil you couldn't prevent."

She relaxed her body, letting her hand fall away from his face, only to have her body crushed against his. She realized that he had grabbed her and pulled her to him, her face landing on his shoulder. She uncrossed her legs to sit back against him, her back securely fitted against his chest.

"It's ok, Angel," she soothed. "You did everything right. It's ok."

"The world'd gonna go to shit again, and this time we got more to protect," he confided. "I dunno if we can."

"You can, Angel. But you're not alone, you know. You'll have more to protect, but you'll have more who can protect as well," she reminded him. "I'm not some damn damsel in distress, need I remind you."

Wrapped around her, his nose nestled in her hair, he recognized that she was right. If her parents had been right about her name, than nothing about her needed protecting. Stars twinkled and looked tiny from afar, but up close, they were burning orbs of energy unrivaled in their ferocity and intensity. A star had no protective barriers or shells because it needed none.

Just like the ones in the night sky, he thought, this one brought him a guiding light in otherwise utter darkness.

**Thank you all for your continued support and feedback! I know we have been a bit short on the action, and I promise that it will pick up in the next chapter. Home renovations are leaving me little time to write, and I want to be able to devote the proper mental resources to the action-packed final episode that we were left with! **


	15. Living with Fighting

**Thank you all again for your feedback. I promised more action, so more action shall I deliver! We are nearing the end of the last season, as well as the last of the "The Walking Dead" graphic novels that I own, so I will be taking some liberties from here on out. Once the series comes back on, if I'm still writing, I will try to find a way to tie the two back together. **

**Oh, one last thing; I will be referring to Star/Rylynn as "Star" in the narrative, but characters will still refer to her as Rylynn, unless they learn her real name. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

Star was the first to fall asleep, dozing off around two in the morning after helping Daryl rinse out his dirty clothes and hanging them to dry in the garage. Daryl, not sure if he was supposed to stay on her mattress or wander off to find his own, chose to do neither, and instead took some time to better examine the stash of weapons and vehicles in her garage.

The green and black bike seemed to be a hybrid of sorts, with wide, treaded tires like a mountain bike but a lightweight frame like a street racer. She had two pannier bags mounted on the back, and a triangular bag attached to the middle of the frame. Inside the bags he found a first aid kit, energy bars, two filtered water bottles, flares, lighters, an assortment of small knives, and a strange strap. He pulled it out of the saddle bag and closely examined it. It was made of woven materials, and had a loop on each end that slid to widen or tighten. He gave up the puzzle, deciding to ask her about it later.

The jeep was closed-topped, but had the option to remove the material over the trunk to make it open air. _Smart choice, _he thought. She had packed the back of the vehicle with non-perishable food, sleeping bags, first aid kits, and tents.

_She knew this place was screwed 'fore we even got here. _

Turning back to go into the house, he saw a strange object leaning on the wall next to the entryway. It looked like a thick, black pole with a grip down the middle. He picked it up and almost immediately dropped it. Confused, he picked it back up again and lifted it to rest on one hand. The pole swung to the ground on one side, but didn't completely fall this time.

_It's weighted, _Daryl realized. _Only…it's weighted wrong. _One end of the pole was clearly heavier than the other, although both were weighed down.

_Strange, _he thought, putting it back in its place and making a mental note to ask Star about that at daylight as well.

He quietly re-entered the house, satisfied with her preparations. He crossed the living room and saw her still sprawled out on the mattress. He quietly bounded up the stairs and picked a door to open at random. Finding a mattress on the floor of what appeared to be a spare bedroom, he plopped down on it and, unexpectedly, promptly fell asleep.

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Star awoke to the sun streaming in the patio windows. She groggily rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and was about to doze off again when she recalled that Aaron wanted to meet at his place at sun-up.

"Shit!" she swore, leaping to her feet and looking around for Daryl. The hunter was nowhere to be found. She dashed into the downstairs bathroom, the only one she had ever used, and pulled on a pair of green cargo pants fitted around her ankles, a black sports bra and matching sports tank top, tossed a longer black sports jacket over that, and shoved her black and orange running shoes over her feet before making a dash for the garage. She gathered Daryl's clean-ish clothes, thankfully mostly dry, and bolted up the stairs.

"Daryl?" she called, knocking on the first door she saw. A groggy "Hmm?" confirmed that she had chosen right.

"Daryl we have to go, we're going to be late and I can already see the smirk on Aaron's face when we show up _late _and _together_."

The door flew open, and Daryl appeared and grabbed the clothes from her hands before she had a chance to hand them over. She laughed as he disappeared behind the door again.

"What?" he inquired, muffled since he was struggling with his shirt.

"Nothing," she called as she made her way back to the first floor. "Meet me in the garage."

He appeared less than two minutes later, crossbow being slung over his back as he stepped into the garage. Star was doing a last-minute check of her bike, and had the strange strap hanging over her shoulder.

"What is that?" Daryl asked. She looked up and smiled before bending down to make one last adjustment to her brakes.

"It's a carrying strap," she told him. She grabbed the strange pole from next to the door as she mounted the bike, set it down across the handlebars, and then wheeled up to the garage door. He followed close behind and bent down to raise the garage door with her. She wheeled underneath as he held it up, and then he crossed under and dropped it shut behind them.

"Fer what?" he asked again as she picked up speed towards Aaron and Eric's house, laughing at him as the distance between them grew. He took a few jogging steps in attempt to keep up, but resumed walking and waved a defeated hand at her back.

When he arrived at Aaron and Eric's house, he found the trio on the floor of the garage, working away on some project.

"Something broken?" he inquired. Aaron stood up and greeted him.

"Morning! No, nothing broke. Rylynn was just showing us a weapon she has been working on."

Daryl looked around the man to see the strange pole in Star's hands, but now two of her longer knives had been mounted to bands at the two ends.

"Meant to tell ya," he told her, "that pole's broken. Weights are off."

She gave him a broad grin. "I know! That's the point."

Eric dusted his knees off as he stood up, too. "It's quite a smart idea, really."

Daryl felt left out. "What is?"

Star picked up her new contraption and carried it over to him, placing it in his hands. "Here, try it. It's just like a double-headed spear. Go out to the driveway and try to swing it around."

"I did, last night," he told her. "Dropped the damn thing. Like I said, weights are off."

"When did you do that?"

"When ya were sleepin'," he said, and she nodded.

"Wait, what?" Aaron said. "When she was sleeping…last night?"

Daryl flushed a deep shade of red and shot a glare at his friend, but Star kept her gaze fondly fixed on her weapon as she said, "Aaron, do not give me an excuse to give a demonstration of this right now."

Eric laughed and patted his partner on the back. "Oh come one, love, let them be. Besides, you all better get on the road before you're burning too much daylight." He affectionately pecked Aaron on the lips and gave him a tight hug, and Star stepped in to give him a hug as well. Eric clapped Daryl on the back with a request of, "Take care of them", which Star snorted at.

Star's bike had already been loaded into the back of the Subaru, along with other provisions they would need, so Aaron got behind the wheel and Star took the passenger seat as Daryl mounted his new motorcycle. The three headed out of the gates of Alexandria just as the sun hit the lower branches of the trees.

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They had been driving along for several hours when Star suddenly hollered, "There!"

"What?" Aaron reacted. "Jesus, Ry, don't do that!"

She ignored his protests and pointed through the passenger window. "I saw a guy! Red poncho, tan pants. He's alone."

Aaron signaled for Daryl to pull over, and the car was barely at a stop before Star was out on her feet. Daryl turned off and dismounted the bike, noting that the spear was now in the carrier strap across her back, one blade pointing down to the ground but angled away from her body, the other point high in the air above and behind her shoulder. He approached her and touched her elbow lightly to get her attention as Aaron came around the car.

"Ya see somethin'?" He asked. She nodded and pointed through a section of the forest.

"I thought I saw someone in there, wearing red," she said quietly. "But I don't see him now."

Daryl led the way into the thicket, studying the ground while Star and Aaron followed behind.

"Somebody came through here," he confirmed.

"If we see them, we hang back and set up a mike. Watch and listen only, for now," Aaron instructed them.

"The usual drill, got it," Star repeated back.

"For how long?" Daryl asked.

"Until we know for sure," Star responded.

Aaron nodded in agreement. "We _have_ to _know_."

This didn't sit too well with Daryl. Who knew what this guy had been through, or how much longer he could hold out? It was unfair to bet this guy's life while the good town of Alexandria made up its mind about a stranger.

"Ya send people away?" Daryl asked. It made more sense to bring him in and send him back out if he didn't work out.

"Yeah," Aaron said shortly.

"Those were the folks I was telling you and Rick about," Star supplemented. "It was three people, two men and a woman. Davidson, smart and strong as hell, was their leader."

Aaron sighed and shook his head in disappointment at the memory. "I thought it'd work out…but it didn't. I brought them in and I had to see them out. Me, Aiden and Nicholas drove them out about an hour, gave them a day's worth of food and water, and left them there."

"They just…went?" Daryl asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"We had their guns," Aaron said by way of explanation.

"They came back, though," Star finished. "They found their way back to Alexandria when I was guarding the wall. Davidson and the other man tried to scale over one of the walls. I had to shoot them down."

"Those are the two men ya killed?"

"I consider them kills. I hit Davidson in the thigh and the other guy in the shoulder. They both fell from pretty far up. We didn't find their bodies the next morning, but there's no way they got far before being attacked or bleeding out," Star admitted.

"It was my call that led to them trying to take over, and failing, and being exiled. It was my call that led to Star having to kill people who weren't about to turn," Aaron said angrily, looking guiltily at Star. She shook her head at him, and Daryl recognized it as her warning him off of that guilt. "You understand why I can't make that kind of mistake again."

"Shhh! There!" Star hissed suddenly. Daryl crouched low and swiveled to face the direction she was pointing in. He made his way over to Aaron's backpack and produced a pair of binoculars, peering across the meadow. Sure enough, a man in a bright red poncho was making his way across the grass.

"What's he doing?" Aaron asked, pulling the listening equipment from the same bag.

"He's smearing dirt on his skin," Star said.

"Sonofabitch knows how to keep mosquitos off of him," Daryl said in an admiring tone. "Come on," he called. The man was about to hit another thick of trees, and he didn't want to lose him.

"Wait," Star said, placing a hand on his arm. "Something's wrong about this."

"What is it?" Aaron asked.

Star's brow furrowed, and she ran a hand along the length of her pony tail. "It just…seems peculiar. He's trying to protect his skin but he's not covering the poncho. That color makes him a target, and he's not trying to camouflage it."

Aaron shrugged. "Maybe he wants to be found."

"Maybe. Or maybe he isn't afraid of whoever is out here," Star countered. She looked at Daryl for his input. He was caught; they both had strong cases.

"We keep followin', watchin' and listenin'," he decided. But by then, the man had disappeared from sight.

They trampled through the woods for another hour, but to no avail. Star even went back to the car to get her bike, and rode around the perimeter of the forest on the roads, but saw no sign of the red poncho man. She did, however, find something else of interest.

They brought the bike and the car back around, with Star taking the lead on her road bike. Following behind her, Daryl took the time to admire her athleticism again. She had no trouble keeping the bike over 25 miles per hour, even with the weight in her saddle bags and the awkward spear on her back. Her gold and brown hair flew backwards in the wind, and a few times she lifted her butt off the seat to stretch out her calves, giving Daryl the perfect view of the newfound object of his fantasies.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice as she slowed to a stop and signaled for him to cut his engine. He parked the bike across the street on the shoulder, and Aaron followed his lead. The trio found themselves outside the gates of a large Del Arno market.

"Look!" Star whispered, gesturing across the lot. At first, Daryl thought she was referring to the small hoard of zombies roaming the parking spaces, still looking for the poncho.

"I don't see 'im," he told her. She gave him a sad smile and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't find him. But I did find those," she suggested, looking at the back of the lot to two large delivery truck trailers.

Aaron was clearly excited. "We checked the forest. We checked the roads, and we can't find him. Sometimes they just slip away. But you don't come across something like _this _every day!"

Daryl wasn't convinced. "We do this now, means we're givin' up."

Aaron tried to reason with him. "Home is fifty miles back, and we are losing sunlight. It's time to go. There's bad people out here."

"That's why we gotta keep lookin' for the good ones," the hunter muttered. Star put a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"We do need more people, good people, and we will keep trying to find them," she promised. "But when we do, we'll need to feed them."

Daryl looked at her. He knew that Aaron's first priority was the people already Alexandria, and that his own judgement was clouded by his family's close calls on the road. But Star had seen both.

"Alright," he caved in, knocking his knife hilt against the chain linked fence. With the three of them, eliminating the parking lot walkers through the fence took a few short minutes.

Aaron took the lead, rushing across the lot to the three trailers. Daryl felt a shout of protest rise in his throat, but kept it to himself. He turned back to check on his female companion, who was looking around with a skeptical expression on her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's…just doesn't feel right," she responded as she removed the spear from her pack and held it ready in her hands. Daryl couldn't figure out what was spooking her, but kept his knife available, too. They jumped up to the loading dock, where Aaron was prying an Alaska license plate loose. He gave them a grin.

"Not every day you see one of these out here! Here's the thing, Daryl; I don't like giving up either. But the guy's in a red poncho. You can see him from a mile away. We'll find him again."

"We've gone a lot of miles, and no sight of him," Daryl argued.

"Which is weird, if he wanted to be found," Star added.

"Regardless, if we come away with a trailer full of cans, I'd say it's a good trip," Aaron responded, grunting with the efforts of lifting the trailer door.

"It's still latched," Daryl informed him, and bent down to unhook the door. The two lifted, and as the door rolled up, a projectile shot from the top of the open bed.

The open bay revealed, not the stash of food Aaron had been looking forward to, but a truckload of walkers, some impaled on rusted pieces of steel, others free and mobile.

"RUN!" Star shouted, and started sprinting towoards the other end of the loading dock. The other two trailer doors shot open, and she corrected, "DOWN!", hot on Daryl and Aaron's heels as they jumped to the lot level and sprinted between two of the trailers. Daryl cleared the opening first, stabbing one walker in the head before seeing how badly they were outnumbered.

"BACK!" he shouted to the other two, stumbling and struggling back. Star appeared from behind him and thrust her spear into the head of a walker that had his jacket in its gnarly hand. The trio backtracked to the trailers, but found the space quickly filling with more of the undead. Daryl dropped to the pavement and rolled under one of the trailers, Star and Aaron soon appearing next to him. Only one walker had made it underneath their hiding spot, a mummified woman with a fresh "W" carved into her forehead.

Daryl kept rolling until he emerged on the other side of the trailer, Star popping out after him, closely followed by Aaron. They each took out a few walkers before becoming overwhelmed, dragging themselves and any attached walkers to an abandoned car in the middle of the lot. Star was the first in, and flung herself over into the back seat to make room for the two men. Daryl vaulted in next, crawling into the driver's seat. Aaron made it into the passenger seat, slamming the car repeatedly on a walker skull before it burst like a squeezed lemon and the door latched shut.

"Oh my God," Aaron gasped, Daryl and Star merely panting in agreement. Daryl turned around to check on his friend.

"You ok?" he asked her, looking her up and down for signs of injury. She nodded, responding with, "You?"

"I'm good," he said.

"Um, I hate to break this up," Aaron cut in, lifting a small piece of paper from where the zombie brains had coated the car, "but…"

Star and Daryl leaned in to read the small scrap of paper. In rushed, sprawled handwriting, it simply said, "Don't stay."

Star groaned and dropped her head into her hands. Daryl, unexpectedly, laughed.

"What?" Aaron asked.

Daryl shook his head. "This feels right. Back in town…it's so closed up back there. But now…this just feels more like me. That's pretty messed up, huh?"

Star put an arm across his seat to rest her hand on his shoulder. "Some of us just know living with fighting now."

Aaron saw it differently. "You were trying. I saw you out there with your group on the road. You led your people to safety. You were doing what was right for them, not just for you. That was when I knew I had to bring you people back." He sighed and let his head fall back onto the seat. "I guess you were right about the guy in the poncho. I shouldn't have given up on him. Now look where it got us."

Star extended her other hand to rest on Aaron's shoulder. He gave her a half smile and took her hand in hers.

Daryl turned to look at the two of them. Aaron was risking his comfortable life in Alexandria every day for the strangers he brought in from the woods. Star constantly put her past aside to listen to their trials and give them a safe, genuine person to confide in. After living his entire life surrounded by selfish, cruel people, he was going to die with two of the most selfless, caring people left on the planet. It seemed bitterly ironic, and terribly harsh. Who was left to be comforting and daring for the sake of everyone else? Rick had to protect his family, Deanna had to think about the people within her walls. The world needed these two people.

He pulled a cigarette from the inside of his jacket, one of the few he had left. Then he opened his mouth and said, "I'll go."

To his utter shock, his voice was not the only one saying the words. Star's voice had uttered the same ones at the same time. They looked at each other, and the look of shock quickly turned to glares.

"No, I'll go." Star insisted. "You two have skills that are rare and irreplaceable. It makes more sense."

"Like hell it does!" Daryl snapped angrily at her, and he saw her flinch. "Who else is gonna talk to all the people an' keep em sane? I'll go out the back, you two make a run for the fence."

"Daryl, I am not BAILING while you DIE!" Star shot back, just as angrily.

"I ain't asking ya, woman!"

"Don't you DARE 'woman' me NOW!"

"Guys! Guys!" Aaron interjected, shocked at the emotional outburst from his two friends. "This was my fault!"

"It was your decision. Ain't no one's fault," Daryl corrected more calmly. "Let me finish this smoke first."

"If you think I'm getting out of this car without you then you're in for a big disappointment," Star said somewhat evenly, some anger still seeping through her words. Daryl stared at her, challenging her with his glare.

Aaron decided to put his foot down before one of them started shouting again. "She's right, Daryl. We don't run away. We fight. We go for the fence. Whether we make it or not, we do it together." He looked at the two, whose eyes were still locked. While they seemed angry on the surface, he saw beyond it. How often had he and Eric gotten in similar fights? Sure, they were frustrated with each other's iron wills, but beneath that was fear of losing the other, a terror of someone so dear being ripped away. "We do this together. We have to."

Daryl finally broke eye contact. "Alright. Star, get up here."

She clambered her way up to the center console, perched on it and ready to spring out after them.

"Go on three," Daryl instructed. "One…two…"

A walker that was intent on gnawing its way through Aaron's window was suddenly missing an eyeball, replaced by the sharped end of a stick. Aaron and Daryl jumped in surprise, but Star kept her balance and her weapon steady.

The walkers outside Aaron's door were violently picked off one by and one, and a hand wrenched the door open by the handle. Aaron sprung out, wielding his machete at every walker skull within his reach. Star leapt out after him, keeping close to his back and fighting by his side. Daryl followed them out and made for the fence through the small path they were creating.

"Come on!" he hollered once he reached the gate, pulling it closed and leaving a small gap for them to run through. Aaron, the newcomer, and finally Star squeezed through, and Daryl slammed the gate shut.

Aaron was out of breath and stunned by the sudden turn of events, but Star was much more focused on the newcomer. She had one end of her spear pointed at his throat, hovering a mere three inches away.

"Ry!" Aaron protested.

"We don't know if he's the one who set the trap," she justified. The man had his hands in the air, his bloodied stick still in his grip.

"I can promise you, I'm not," he informed her.

"Ry, put it down," Aaron said forcefully. She finally lowered her weapon and took a step back. Daryl took a step forward and wrapped a hand around her wrist.

"It's ok," he mumbled to her.

"That…that was…thank you," Aaron gasped at their savior. "I, uh, I'm Aaron. This is Daryl, and that's Rylynn."

The man nodded at them each in turn. "Morgan."

Daryl was appreciative of Morgan's actions, but Star's suspicions had him thinking. "Why?" he asked.

Morgan looked at him incredulously. "Why? Because…all life is precious, Daryl."

Star was looking around at their surroundings. "If you didn't set that trap, Morgan, than whoever did is coming."

Aaron was more focused on their newfound luck. "Morgan, I have good news. We have a community not far from here, with walls and electricity. It's safe. If you'd like to come join us…"

Morgan cut him off. "No, but thank you. I'm on my way somewhere. Fact is, I'm lost, so if you could tell me where we are…" he handed a folded, dirty map to Daryl.

Daryl stared at the map, and then back up to Morgan. Star leaned around him to look at the map.

"We're right…" she pointed, but then saw the markings that had stunned her companion.

_Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world's gonna need Rick Grimes." _

She looked up at Morgan in shock. "You know Rick?!"

He blinked back at her, equally surprised. "YOU know Rick?"

Daryl cut in. "Rick is at the community."

"Then that's where I want to go."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The dirty, blood-covered, weary travelers reached the gates of Alexandria after dark. Star jumped out and opened the gates after several minutes of waiting for the guards to let them in.

"I wonder where everyone is," she mused as they shut the gates behind them, peering down the empty streets.

"Prob'ly there," Daryl said, gesturing to the one lit area outside of Deanna and Reg's house. The group made their way over to the flickering lights and cluster of shadows.

"How many people are here?" Morgan asked.

"We're getting close to fifty," Aaron said proudly. "We're hoping to bring in at least fifteen more by…"

His information was cut off by a wailing scream and a collective sound of panic. Star and Daryl immediately broke into a sprint side-by-side, but Star soon out-ran Daryl and reached the courtyard first.

"What the HELL?!" he heard her exclaim, and he sped up, bursting through the space with his crossbow drawn. The first thing he saw was Star's face turned towards him, covered in blood and tears in her eyes.

"What…?!" he exclaimed, kneeling down next to her and pulling her away from whatever had done that to her. She struggled against him, fighting to get back to the crumpled body on the floor. Only then did he realize that it was not Star's blood, but the body's. A wail rose up again, and he took the full scene in; Reg dead on the floor, his throat cut wide open; Deanna crying with her husband's body in her arms; Star trying to close the spurting wound with her bare hands; Rick's face covered in dried, dark flesh and blood; Pete at Rick's feet, staring down the barrel of a gun.

Deanna's wails ceased as she turned her face to her husband's killer. "Rick…do it," she ordered.

Wordlessly, without hesitation, Rick fired a shot into Ron's temple. Julie cried out.

"Rick?!" a voice called from side of the gathering place. Daryl turned to see that Morgan and Aaron had made it to the scene. Rick turned to see his old friend staring in ghastly horror at what had just taken place before his eyes.

"Oh shit," Star whispered. Daryl tightened his grip around her and lifted her up from the ground, wanting her out of the middle of the altercation. She came willingly this time.

As they both moved to the sides of the courtyard, Morgan's words echoed across both their minds; _All life is precious. _

**Annnnnd with that, we conclude the TV show's current progress. Reviews are much appreciated and always savored! **


	16. All the Family We Can Get

**I found the rest of my "The Walking Dead" graphic novels, so I am trying to stick to that storyline, although it's often hard to figure out what exactly is going on or what will get picked up by the TV show. So, I will do my best to keep to the general direction. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

"Oh shit," Star muttered again.

"M…Morgan?" Rick stuttered in disbelief. "How…?"

"He saved us from a trap," Aaron volunteered. "Showed us a map with your name on it, so we brought him here."

Morgan was still staring at the lifeless corpse of Ron. "Why, Rick?" he finally asked. "All life is precious."

"Morgan, I…he was a threat to the peace," Rick tried to explain. "We've all had to kill to stay alive."

"_Peace_ is not _staying alive_," Morgan pointed out.

"He killed my husband," Deanna hissed at the stranger.

"But it could have been one life lost tonight, instead of two!" Morgan insisted.

"Rick, who is this man?" Deanna demanded.

Daryl was watching Star instead of the social chaos in front of him. She was watching the interactions with interest and wariness, her golden eyes flitting back and forth between the players. He could almost hear her mind analyzing and processing each word, tone and flashing facial expression.

"Stop," she finally called out, her voice steady but echoing across the courtyard. "That's quite enough for one night. We will deal with all of this in the morning."

"There is nothing to deal with," Morgan responded to her. "A life is a life. You can't just leave _murder_ until the morning."

Star turned a steely gaze onto Morgan, and the man shrank back slightly. Daryl almost smiled; he knew what was coming, as he had been on the receiving side not two weeks prior.

"I am not leaving _murder _until morning, Morgan. As far as I can see, the appointed law officer executed the order of the popularly –appointed governor. You do not recognize their legitimacy, but we have not yet recognized your citizenship. I see no _peaceful_ solution that can be found tonight, especially in the midst of all of this loss. Wouldn't you agree?"

Daryl was seriously impressed at her ability to bring logic and authority to a moment teeming with raw emotion. Her shoulder was resting just slightly against his chest, and he could feel her shaking. With the entire community's eyes on her, he felt awkward exposing their recently-developed relationship in an outward show of support for her.

Morgan returned her stare and finally relented. "I don't see a better solution at the moment, no."

She nodded in appreciation of his graciousness, and then turned to the rest of the community. "Jessie, please take your family and go home. Carol will go with you for the night." She made eye contact with each person as she named them, looking for a nod in confirmation. "Rick, take Carl home and wash up, get some sleep. Michonne, Abraham, and Glen, please place Ron and Reg in the canvas you'll find in the storage house and bring them out to the edge of the north wall. Daryl and I will assist you. Aaron, I need you to go around to the homes of the people who aren't present and inform them of the events. Ask them to remain inside until daylight." As she delegated tasks, the named individuals filtered out to fulfill their tasks. "Maggie, please help Deanna inside and stay with her tonight. Morgan, you are welcome to reside for the night in any vacant home. Please go with Aaron and he will show you to one. Nicholas, Marie," she directed to the Alexandria members, "please clean up the courtyard to the best of your ability. The storage house and the cleaning supplies there are yours to use."

The audience slowly dispersed, each heading to their tasks for the night. Finally the courtyard was vacant, except for Star and Daryl. Daryl saw that she was still shaking, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him.

"Ya ok?" he asked, searching her face. She looked over at him, fear and anger and uncertainty radiating from her eyes.

"Deanna won't be in any shape to make unbiased decisions for a while. And I'm not sure how stable Rick is, or how much people outside your family can trust him now. Morgan adds another unstable element," she shared.

"So what do we do?" she asked, some of her fear echoing in him.

She bit back on her lips. "I don't know." She looked up at him, her eyes looking for reassurance or guidance. All he could think about was how young and lost she suddenly looked to him.

"How old are ya?" he asked, realizing he had never thought about her age.

She gave him a dubious look. "Seriously? You're asking me that now?"

"I just…" he mumbled. "Ya always seem so capable and on top of it…"

Star smiled at his misguided compliment. "I'm twenty-six, Daryl. Just in case that ever matters again."

"Prob'ly won't," he responded. "I guess we jus'…do what we said we would. Leave the rest for tomorrow."

She nodded, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Good plan."

Michonne, Abraham and Glenn returned with the canvas bags, and together the group got both corpses into the bags. Once his face was covered, Star shot Reg in the head to ensure he didn't return as a walker. They carried the two bags to the north wall and carefully set them directly below the frame, where they would stay hidden in the shadows for the longest amount of time.

"I'm going to go back to Deanna's house, see if she or Maggie needs anything," Glenn told them after their task had been completed. Star nodded in agreement.

"Go be with your wife," she gave him a small smile. He clasper her on the shoulder, nodded goodnight to the rest, and walked off.

"We're going to return to the house," Michonne informed Star. "I want to make sure Rick remains there."

"That's a good idea, Michonne," Star acknowledged. "We really appreciate your mediating."

"And we appreciate your intervening back there," Michonne returned. "We may need it even more tomorrow."

"I will do my best," Star promised.

Michonne smiled at the woman and turned to Daryl. "You coming home? We missed you last night."

Daryl blushed, thankful for the cover of night. Star also cast her eyes down, not wanting to make Daryl feel awkward and also not wanting to be disappointed when he chose to return to the family home.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," she answered for him, turning to go back to her home. She unsheathed the spear on her back as she walked away, swinging it between her arms for practice.

Michone watched Daryl watch Star go, and shook her head at him knowingly. "You know," Michonne said sarcastically as she, Abraham and Daryl started in the opposite direction, "we didn't miss you _that _much."

Abraham scoffed. Daryl glared at his friends.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"She's sayin' to go get your woman, dumb ass," Abraham clarified gruffly. "If you want to stay at the family home, then bring her to us. But ain't no reason for a man to sleep alone if he has the chance not to."

Michonne steered Daryl by his shoulders until he was facing the direction that Star had been walking. "Go get her," she commanded fondly. "And bring her back to the house tomorrow morning. Lord knows we are gonna need all the family we can get."

**Thanks for any feedback you can offer! I live for it! **


	17. Wrong Side of the Fence

**Thank you all for your patience! I know it has been a while since I updated. Career changes, house repairs, yada yada. But, despite all the distractions, we are still moving onwards and upwards!**

Daryl left his companions and turned back down the street he had last seen Star on. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to her find her in the empty, dark roads of Alexandria. He kept his ears trained for the _swish swish _of her spear, but only heard night bugs and the rustling of thebreeze through the branches.

_We are gonna need all the family we can get. _Michonne's words echoed in his head. He had told Rick that she was with them, and now was the time to prove it. If only he could find her.

A faint _tap tap tap_ echoed as he grew closer to the tall, fortified fences. He turned his head towards the source of the sound, and saw a dark figure in the shadows further down the line, tapping a pointed stick against the sturdy walls.

"Hey," he whispered to her. He saw the outline of her head turn towards him, but she made no motion to approach him. He sighed and began trudging towards her instead.

When he reached her, he saw that she was methodically touching her spear point to the fence, a _tap _sounding out with every point of impact.

"Whatcha doin' that for?" he asked. She still didn't face him, but turned her gaze further up the fence and lowered her spear to her side.

"How long do you think this will hold?" she whispered.

"What? The wall?"

She nodded in the dark.

"I dunno. Long as it does, I suppose."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards at his matter-of-fact response.

"And what do we do when it doesn't?" she probed.

Daryl shot her a glare. Why was she testing him like this? He knew that the wall wouldn't hold forever, and he knew what it took to survive out there. He didn't need to be cross-examined like a school kid.

"Why ya askin' me all of this? I know what's out there, an' I know this ain't no safe haven."

"I'm asking because I don't know," she responded evenly. "And I am terrible at not knowing things."

He didn't have a reply for that, so he turned his focus back to his mission. "Michonne sent me to come an' get ya. We need ya on our side now."

Star didn't respond to him but just kept staring up at the 12 feet of steel and wood. Suddenly, she let out a chuckle and turned to gaze at the darkened, quiet houses to their backs.

"You know, for how smart I seem to think I am," she told him, "I never considered that we might be on the wrong side of this fence."

He understood what she was worried about, and placed an open palm on her shoulder.

"Ain't no right side of the fence anymore," he told her, steering her away from the border of town and back into the residences. She came willingly, flipping her spear around in her opposite hand.

"What does Michonne want with me?" she asked, refocusing on the present conflict.

"We want ya," Daryl corrected her. "Yer in the group now, and we all gotta band together. Shit's bout to go down."

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The two family homes were the only ones in Alexandria with candles lit and silhouettes moving around. The rest of the citizens seemed too shocked to take any liberties with their light or their shadows.

Daryl and Star walked up the front steps, and immediately the motion and quiet whispers inside the building ceased. Daryl knocked twice on the door frame and said, "'s me."

The door swung open to reveal Sasha with a knife in her hand. She tilted her head into the house, inviting them to enter.

The majority of the group was seated or standing around the kitchen counters and dining table. Abraham was intently studying a collection of papers on the counter with Rick and Michonne, and looked up to see the two newcomers. He shook his head at them.

"I said _tomorrow morning_, dumbass," he muttered to Daryl. Daryl flipped him off, earning a stifled laugh from Carl. Star looked confused, but decided not to push it. Rick came from around the counter and approached the two, stopping right in front of Star. She held eye contact with the leader, unphased.

"Good," Rick said finally, and turned to the rest of the family. "Folks, I believe we all know Rylynn. She's with us now."

Daryl watched every member smile or nod their approval.

"Star," he heard her say. He turned back to her in surprise. She took a visible breath and continued. "If we're family, then you should know that my real name is Star."

Rick beckoned her over to the counter and the pile of papers. She and Daryl approached the opposite side, and Daryl saw that the papers were the town list of families, the storage inventory, and maps of the surrounding area.

"Alright Star," Rick said. "What do we do?"

All of her uncertainty and her self-consciousness instantly vanished, replaced by commanding confidence. "Tell me where you are at, Rick. What are we thinking right now?"

"Stay," Abraham said promptly. "Take control of the town and lock it down tighter. Train folks. Re-disperse weapons."

She nodded curtly. "Other options?"

"Back on the road," Michonne promptly supplied. "Take as much as we can and see what we find. But we did that before, and it nearly killed all of us."

"What else?"

"Go back to the prison?" Carl suggested. "I mean, with the supplies we take from here, we might be able to rebuild it."

"Anything that involves leaving means either sentencing everyone else to death or bringing them all with us," Sasha chimed in.

"Bringing them with us is essentially a death sentence, too," Carol reminded them all. "There's no way these people will last a week on the road."

"Anything that involves staying means taking care of the same people," Abraham reminded her. "Which means taking over, and they might not be willing to work under us."

"Either way, we risk running out the other people here who cannot survive anywhere else," Rick sighed, frustrated. "If we don't' take them with us and we leave, we would take as many supplies as we can carry. Maybe even all of it."

Star listened intently to all of the plans being echoed throughout the room. She turned to the only silent voice.

"Daryl? What are your thoughts?" she prompted him.

He flexed his fingers in his hand, contemplating the options. He didn't want to condemn the townspeople to death, or to cheat them out of their only shot at life. But at the same time, if it came at a cost and potentially danger to the group…

"Our family first," he replied simply. "If they wanna join, we take em and try. If they don't…" he shrugged.

Star's gold eyes floated across the papers spread out in front of them. "There has to be a less extreme option," she mumbled.

"Like what?" Carol asked.

"I don't know. Leave, but don't take every supply? Stay, but set up a less severe form of governance?"

"Deanna tried moderate policing," Rick reminded her. "Now two men are dead, and only one deserved it."

"If we leave, we take all that we can. We don't know when we will have a chance to restock, or if we even will find somewhere to live, for any amount of time," Sasha argued.

"Communities like this are rare," Michonne mentioned. "It was experimental. We'll never find another one."

"Maybe another prison?" Carol suggested.

"That might be an option," Rick acknowledged.

"What if it gets attacked again? This place is safe because no other people are looking for it," Michonne pointed out. "Prisons are obvious, and marked on maps."

"Let's bring it back in," Star called over the increasingly passionate voices. "Instead of listing what we can't have, let's list what we _need_. You all had good points." She hopped up to sit on the top of the counter, grabbed a pen from the pile of papers, and pointed at Carol with it.

"Somewhere fortified," Carol responded. The pen moved on to the next person, and each voiced what they needed in a home.

"Somewhere isolated and discrete."

"Somewhere with long-term potential."

"Lots of space."

"Supplies."

"A group that agrees on how to live there."

"We can get to it from here without huge risk."

"Ok," Star dropped the pen back down, a list jolted across a national map. "Let's just…let's call it a night. No matter what we decide, we are going to be here for at least a few more days. We can revisit this tomorrow night, and try to think of anything we might have missed."

The group nodded and slowly dispersed. Michonne was the last out of the room, and smiled at the newcomer from the entryway.

"Hey, Star," she called. Star look up from the list and met Michonne's eyes.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're with us."

Star grinned sleepily. "Thanks Michonne. So am I."

Daryl had exited with Rick to double-check the safety of the house, and came back in just as Michonne was leaving. Star acknowledged him without looking up from her papers.

"Going to sleep?" she asked.

"Na, I told Rick I'd take watch for a coupla' hours."

"You can get some sleep if you want to," she noted. "I'm going to keep going over these, so I'll be up. I can keep an eye on things."

"That ain't keepin' watch," he admonished her. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Do you really think any people are going to leave their safe little houses tonight?"

She had a point, but he didn't tell her that. Instead, he lifted himself up to sit on the tall counter with her. She was tracing major highways across the map and chewing on the pen cap absentmindedly.

"Don't do that," he scolded, lifting his hand to take the cap out of her mouth. She stopped her marking and lifted her intense gaze to his eyes as he withdrew the cap from between her teeth. Her lip fell in to fill the gap it left.

He squinted at her and tossed the cap aside, bringing his thumb to her lip to pull it gently from her bite. She relinquished her hold on it slowly, and he left his thumb under her chin, mesmerized by the lust and magnetic pull coursing between them.

Her lips flickered down to his lips for a split second, and it was all he needed. In front of the group, and the entire town, he had felt self-conscious about their connection. He didn't want to handle the imposing remarks and the prodding, and he was unsure how he would handle people questioning a girl like her with a guy like him.

But with no audience, and no expectations, he couldn't think of a good reason not to be as connected to her as he could manage. His lips clumsily crashed into hers, his hands immediately weaving around her waist to pull her closer to him. Her fingers dug into the back of his leather vest, and he felt her push her weight into him, almost as if she was trying to put him on his back.

Never one to back down, Daryl pushed back, his larger frame overpowering her as she rocked back onto her back. His strong arm cradled her head to keep it from smacking into the cold counter, and she let out an audible sigh as she settled into and was surrounded by his warmth.

They broke apart, raggedly breathing, and her characteristic smirk flashed across her face.

"So, is this the proper way to keep watch?"

He shook his head at her sarcasm, their noses brushing together.

"That's too bad," she continued. "Because I was gonna go ask Rick to sign me up for watch duty for the next thirty years."


	18. The New Normal

**Thanks for all the continued reviews and feedback! I know we have a lot over conversation in this fic, and not as much action and movement. I'm trying to change that in the next few chapters. Let me know what you think, and as always, onwards and upwards!**

Morning found Star with her head awkwardly leaning backwards and a knot in her neck, her muscles stiff in odd places. She slowly lifted her head upright and grimaced as she rubbed her sore appendages. Squinting in the bright light, she found herself in the living room of the family home, early morning sunlight yellowing the unfamiliar walls.

She stretched her legs out, and the carpet crinkled in response. Confused, she looked down and saw that her legs were resting on a widespread pile of papers.

_Ah yes, _she thought to herself. The maps, inventory lists, and brainstorming sheets from last night. After their little encounter on the counter, Daryl had occupied himself with a more traditional version of keeping watch as she poured over the information. At one point, she must have fallen asleep on the cold counter top, because she didn't recall moving to the couch.

She turned to look around the rest of the room, and found her companion sprawled out on the couch, snoring quietly. His hand was barely touching the back of her shoulder, but she felt his warmth nonetheless. He must have carried her over to the living room during the night.

She slowly leaned away from the couch, so as not to wake him, and rose to her feet, stretching upwards onto her toes. She quietly padded her way into the kitchen, and was surprised to see Carl sitting at the dining room table, snacking on some bread.

"Morning Carl," she whispered. He smiled and nodded back, his mouth full of crust. She crossed the room and selected a few pieces of fruit from the bowl and a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. Picking up her pocket knife from inside her shoes by the door, she sat across from the young man and began to slice away at an apple.

"Did you figure anything out?" Carl asked, gesturing to the living room with his thumb. Star shook her head sadly.

"No. I keep looking at the same maps and lists, waiting for something to hit me, but nothing so far," she confided.

Carl looked straight at her with the confidence of someone years older. "We should leave," he said with conviction. "There's nothing for us here. These people are going to get us killed."

"These people saved your lives," she reminded him firmly, getting up from the table and retrieving her pile of papers from the floor of the living room.

"We would have made it," he said, but with notably less confidence as she sat down again.

"Maybe so, maybe not," Star conceded. She spread the papers out on the surface of the table. "We'll never know. It's all irrelevant anyway, because we have to figure out what to do_ now_."

He shrugged again. "And we still don't know what that is."

Star sighed, and stood up suddenly.

"Wait, I'm sorry!" Carl immediately said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"What?" Star said, genuinely confused. "Oh, no Carl. I know you didn't. I just can't stand to look at these papers any longer. They're _mocking _me."

He gave her a funny look and shook his head, laughing to himself.

"Laugh all you want, but after however many hours, I'm starting to see them as torture, not useful." She looked around the rest of the house. "Is anyone else up?"

Carl shook his head. "No, it's still pretty early."

"Great. I'm going to get a quick run in, and try to clear my head." She looked down at her attire. She was still wearing the straight cargo pants and black top from the night before. Carol had taken her other layers to clean after Ron's blood had gotten all over them. She slung her holstered spear across her back. "I guess that means stopping by my house."

"Can I come?" Carl asked, standing up as well. Star's eyes widened in surprise.

"Sure, I guess," she responded. She was tempted to ask why the boy wanted to run with her, but decided against it. Carl bounded upstairs and appeared a few moments later, dresses in shorts, tennis shoes and a t-shirt. He tucked his knife into his waistband and nodded to her, and the two were out the door.

After a brief stop at Star's, they headed out to the gate. Carl came to a halt at the gate, and Star went a few steps ahead to unlock the padlock with a key she kept tucked into her shoelaces. She frowned slightly when her key refused to enter the lock. She flipped the lock around in her hands, and sighed in frustration.

"Someone changed the lock in the night, and I don't have the new key," she informed Carl. The boy nodded in understanding and then said, "Follow me," taking off down the dirt perimeter along the wall. Star dutifully followed her new brother, and they soon came to a stop at a specific post. Carl hopped a few feet up the pole and grabbed some kind of handhold, hauling himself up until his feet could make use of the previous holds.

Star squinted up at him, and saw that he was using long wood screws in the post to clamber his way up. She followed his lead, and soon the two were dropping down the sheer surface on the other side.

"Nice trick," Star commended Carl. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Carl visibly blushed. "Enid. She had just one spike she put in and pulled out. I thought leaving them there was more practical."

Star began to set a mid-range pace, and smiled at Carl's concern for the girl. "She's a smart one. She spent a lot of time on the outside, like your group. I see why you have similar ideas about Alexandria."

Carl picked up his pace. Since he was shorter than her, he had to move a little faster to keep up.

"Alexandria…it's nice," he started.

"But?" Star prompted.

"But the people here are soft," he said, almost bitterly. "They're soft and they're naïve and afraid and they are going to end up dead. Or worse."

"Maybe they can learn, Carl," Star argued. He shot her an exasperated look.

"You can't really believe that, Ryl…Star."

"What if we trained them? Armed them? Do you think they could make it then?"

His gaze remained hardened. "No. It doesn't matter if they have guns or not. They don't…they aren't prepared to mentally deal with what's out there. Out here, you have to know that everyone could die today. It doesn't matter if you love them or not." His sullenness came through even more aggressively. "All of us are gonna die and maybe turn, and those people think they're special and it won't happen to them! They live in safety and luxury and think that they're the exception!"

"And you hate them for it?"

He stopped dead and shot her a reprimanding look. "Don't tell me you don't. I know it's not true. You were on the outside, so you know how the world really is! You didn't even tell them your real name!"

"Man," Star muttered under her breath as she resumed her running. "That is never going to stop being thrown in my face, is it?"

Carl wasn't done with his rant, though. "And the worst thing is, everyone else is playing along! Carol pretending that she's a housewife again, and Michonne and my dad doing stupid patrol in their uniforms! Even Daryl's playing mechanic in Aaron's garage!"

This time, it was Star who stopped, putting her hand onto Carl's shoulder. "That's where I'm going to draw a line, Carl. You can hate on the luxury and the mindset, but hating on your family for trying to fit in with what's normal here is not okay. They are trying to rebuild lives."

"That's stupid. They're just saying that all of this is back to normal," Carl shot back. "It's not the old normal!"

At that moment, the rustling of dragging leaves echoed from their right. A half-rotted walker, its arm partially torn from its torso, a chunk of its face covered with fat maggots, dragged a boot behinds its foot, the laces caught around its bony ankle. Star instinctually put her arm out to shield Carl behind her, but the boy went around her impatiently. He rotated his knife around in his hand and expertly plunged it deep under the walker's jaw, all the way to the hilt. The creature slumped forward, and he yanked his weapon out before the body hit the ground.

He stared hatefully at the corpse as Star came up behind him. Despite his mature and angry exterior, she knew that part of Carl was still a young boy, saddened at the things he had seen and frightened by the lives he had ended. She carefully placed a hand around his shoulder, tracing small, comforting circles with her fingertips, and saw his free hand ball into a fist. In a sudden outburst, he kicked the body right in the rib cage, the crack of several ribs echoing out into the morning.

"That's the new normal," he said quietly, resentfully.

Star's reassuring hand suddenly stilled.

"What did you say?" she asked him, eyebrows furrowed and a distant look in her eyes.

"That," he said, gesturing to the grotesque lump of flesh and bones, "is our new normal."

Before he could process what was happening, she was sprinting back down the trail, a flurry of brown leaves kicking up behind her in a storm of dirt and debris.

"Ry…Star, what the hell?!" he called, taking off after her. She showed no notice of his words, gaining even more speed as she bolted straight for the wall.

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Daryl jolted awake as a bright light hit his face. He grunted and threw a hand over his eyes, shielding them as he groggily investigated the source of the glare. The sunlight was coming in through the tall, thin window next to the door, lighting up the entire living room.

He slowly lifted up to a seated position, trying to shove the sleep-induced haze from his mind. Why wasn't he in his room?

A glimpse of the counter brought memories of the previous night flooding back. _Oh…right…keepin' watch._

He looked down at the floor below the couch for the person in mind. He had carried her to the couch after she had fallen asleep in a pile of her maps. She had, half-asleep, fought him over sharing the couch for the night, and stubbornly refused to take the piece of furniture for herself, finally settling on the floor to prove her barely-conscious point. He felt strange sleeping on the floor next to her, still unsure of _what_ or _how_ he and she…_or they_?...were, and certainly not willing to share any of that with his roommates. He also felt strange abandoning her downstairs to sleep in his room, and even stranger thinking about bringing her to his room. So he simply settled on the couch, and apparently had fallen asleep there as well.

And now she was gone, he realized as he scanned the room. He got to his feet and made his way into the kitchen, which was also empty, save a jar of peanut butter, some bread crusts, and an apple core on the table.

He was about to go upstairs and begin rousing the others when he passed by the front door. The entire family left their day-to-day shoes there, and kept a spare set of boots by their bedsides. Two sets of shoes were missing: Star's orange and black shoes, and Carl's worn, dirty Converse. Her spear and holster were missing as well.

_Jesus Christ, man, _he chided himself. _Calm down. She don't need nobody worryin' after her. Getting' all worked up over nothin'. _

He sat down at the table to finish the open jar of peanut butter when footsteps sounded from upstairs. A few moments later, Carol appeared in the kitchen entryway.

"Good morning," she greeted the man. He waved his peanut butter-laden spoon at her in return.

Carol busied herself with a kettle on the stove, and casually asked after a few moments, "Is Star still asleep upstairs?"

"Naw," Daryl responded. "Went out with Carl."

Carol nodded slightly. "That's nice of her."

Daryl chose not to respond, so Carol kept going. "She seems intelligent, and good with people."

Daryl again remained silent. Carol scowled at him behind his back as she rinsed out a mug in the sink, but kept her voice informal as she continued. "And she is a lovely looking girl."

Daryl smirked slightly. "Don't let her hear ya say that," he finally spoke.

"Why's that?" Carol asked, sitting across from him.

"She don't like being called a girl," he informed her.

"Well, then what should we call her?" Carol asked slyly. Daryl rolled his eyes at her prying.

"Her name?" he said sarcastically, tiring of the game.

"Daryl, you know what I mean," Carol sighed, exasperated. Daryl got up from his seat and tossed the empty jar into the sink, glaring at the motherly woman as he stalked out of the room. Carol returned the look with equal energy.

"And you should wash out that jar!" she shot as his back.

"Whatever!" he returned, but stopped in his tracks at a sound echoing the neighborhood outside. He returned to the kitchen, pressing his finger to his lips as he peered out the window next to Carol. She crouched below the line of sight and pulled her blade from her waistband.

"What is it?" she hissed over his shoulder.

"A bunch of footsteps. Movin' fast," he muttered back.

The rest of the family must have heard the same noises, because within fifteen seconds, Sasha, Rick, and Abraham were at the bottom of the stairs, still clad in their clothing from the day before, weapons in hand and at the ready. Daryl gestured to all of them to keep their voices down and out of sight of the windows. The slamming, rapid footsteps were growing louder with every second, and soon whatever, or whoever, it was would be on the front doorstep.

"STAR WAIT DON'T GO IN!" Carl's voice sounded down the street. The louder set of footsteps suddenly quieted and slowed.

Daryl was at the door in a second, wrenching it open before Rick could warn him off.

"Daryl don't!..."

But the hunter was out of the house, Rick hot on his feels. Rick knew that Daryl wouldn't hesitate to throw himself in danger's way, but they had no idea why Carl and Star were running, or what or who was behind them.

"Stay here!" he ordered Abraham as he bolted after his right-hand man. Abraham immediately pulled the front door closed and locked it behind their leader.

Daryl sprinted out to the center of the street, and saw Star and Carl down about 20 yards away.

"What's going on?" he shouted down at them. Star broke into a faster-paced jog upon seeing him. She reached him, and he held out his arm, his eyes checking her over for injuries.

Her eyes danced with excitement, the gold specks as bright as ever, as she jogged past him and up to the front steps, saying, "I figured it out!" as she passed by.

Carl came up to Daryl a few minutes later, out of breath. He stopped by the older man, hands on his knees, gasping, "She…she keeps …saying that. We must've run… a mile…and a half…full sprint…"

Rick was standing nearby, confused by the scene. Star was pounding on the door, shouting, "Guys, it's us. Let us in!"

"Where's Rick?" Abraham's gruff voice demanded. "What in the name of hell is goin' on out there?"

"What is going on?" a soft female voice with a bite asked.

"Woman, what did I just ask?!"

Rick approached the door. "Abraham, we're fine. Open up."

The click of the lock was heard, and the door opened to reveal fully-armed Carol, Sasha, Abraham, and latecomer Michonne.

"What is going on?" Star asked, perplexed by the ready militia inside the house.

"We have the same question for you!" Sasha responded.

"Why were ya making so much damn noise, runnin' through town?" Daryl demanded, still not placated that there was no present danger.

"Star, why did you take off like that?" Carl pressed.

She was too excited by whatever the answer was to take the time to verbalize it. Instead, she pushed past the crowd at the door and dove to the floor of the living room, rifling through the maps and lists she had accumulated. She produced a single, large, worn map with a triumphant "Aha!" and scrambled to the kitchen counter.

The band of perplexed survivors wearily followed her into the large room, gathering around her as she chewed on a pen, tracing circles all over the map until she enthusiastically circled a tiny section of print, almost dead center. She flipped it around so it read upright to Rick, who was standing directly across from her.

He read the print enclosed in the ink, and then looked even more perplexed.

"Sadelia, Colorado?" he read.

There was a pause, Star's eyes and face still lit up with excitement and hope.

Finally…

"I don't get it," Carl deadpanned. "What's Sadelia?"

Star took deep, invigorating breath. "Guys, Sadelia is where we find the new normal."

**What is in Sadelia, Colorado? Why did Carl's outburst suddenly bring it to Star's mind? And the fate of Alexandria's citizens still hangs in the air! **


	19. Stupid, Fleeting Thoughts

**Thank you all for your continued feedback and support! I live for reviews!**

**For those who asked, Sadelia is not a place that has come up in the comics. It is a place of my own invention. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

"I still don't get it," Carl responded. "I've never heard of it."

"Star, Colorado is really far…" Sasha added, looking apprehensive. "We don't have any cars."

"It's going to be winter soon," Eugene added. He had blearily stumbled down the stairs upon being woken by the commotion. "We can't try to settle in the mountains during snow season. Not to mention the significant risks of trying to get across country."

Daryl watched the young woman take note of all of their protests, but the fire in her eyes did not seem to die down. She never took her eyes off of the map, with the circled text prominently jumping off the page.

"Hold on, y'all," Daryl said, holding up his hand to quiet the small mob in the kitchen.

"What is in Sadelia?" Rick asked. The young woman had proved herself to be level headed, analytical, and intelligent. There had to be something about this place that warranted her excitement.

She grinned up at the leader. "When I was in my senior year of the undergraduate program, my dorm roommate was a junior environmental engineering major. When I graduated, she was spearheading this project; an actual house on the Front Range. It was made entirely of recyclable materials, was totally off-grid and generated its own electricity, recycled its own water… she always had blueprints strewn all over the floor.

"A year later, she sent me a flyer to the 'open house'. She managed to finish the house and build it, and it became this model home for self-sustainable housing. Her slogan for the project was, 'A new normal'."

The group listened intently to her story, and was wide-eyed by the end.

"This house…'s in Sadelia?" Daryl asked. Star nodded in confirmation.

"Right along the Front Range of the Rockies. She designed it to self-sustain through the winter, off-grid. I think she primarily used solar and wind energy, but there's other measures she talked about for water and heat and things like that. I'm not totally up to speed on what all of it meant."

"It might already be occupied," Rick argued. "Especially if she sent out flyers."

Star shook her head. "She sent them to me for proofing. There were some grammatical errors on it that I corrected and then sent it back to her. Three days later, the quarantine in Denver was announced, and I got out as fast as possible to find my sister down here. She never had a chance to send them out. Sadelia is a tiny town, and the house was set back in the trees, at least a mile from any neighbors."

A silence settled over the group, with every pair of eyes now trained on the map. The more Star told them, the more it seemed like a viable option, and the more hope they had. But hope was a dangerous thing, and in this world, it could get you killed. The group was worried about tying their future up in a place they had never been to, on the word of a girl few of them knew.

Star could sense the hesitancy flooding the room, and she understood where it was coming from.

"Let me try to remember the layout and the features," she offered. "Then we can make a more informed decision."

"I'll help," Abraham volunteered. A few shocked looks were exchanged at his volunteering.

"I know the roads the best," he reasoned. "Colorado is damn far. We'll have to know our route to know what it takes to get there."

"We'll need vehicles," Daryl added. "And more supplies to even get there. I'll go on a run and see what I find."

"I'll come with you," Sasha furthered. "I'm sick of that tower."

"The lock on the gate was changed last night," Carl informed them.

"Aaron and Eric dropped off a key this morning," Carol responded, tossing a silver key over to Daryl, who caught it. "They said they thought it would be best that we not have a lot of foot traffic in and out until things settle down."

Rick began assigning additional jobs to the family members. Michonne and he would continue patrol and make contact with Morgan. Carl and Carol would stop by Deanna's place to check on Maggie, Glen and the town's leader. Eugene was to take over the supply inventory until further decisions were made.

Everyone filtered out of the house, off to their respective stations, until it was just Star and Abraham left. Star was intently measuring out lines on a grid, and Abraham was attacking the map with nail markers and highlighter pens.

After almost an hour of silence, Abraham finally spoke.

"Do you really think this place could work?" he asked. Star looked up from her work to look her companion directly in the eyes.

"I do," she said steadily. "It has everything we need to have an actual future, like the one they could have had at the prison."

"Be sure," Abraham said gruffly. "They lost the prison, we lost Washington, and now we are losing our grip on this place. Ain't much more loss this group can take."

"I don't intend for anyone to lose anything," Star responded. "I sincerely believe we can make it to Sadelia, with some planning, and start actual lives there."

"Just don't go wasting _actual_ lives on a fairy tale," Abraham concluded, and went back to his map.

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Star stretched up after several hours of work on her 2-D rendition of the house. Abraham had long ago abandoned his maps in the quest of a more active occupation, and Star thought that he had the right idea.

She carefully locked up the house with the key that Daryl had shown her stashed inside the porch light, and set off at a light pace to her house. _Old house, _she corrected herself silently. It was going to take her a while to get used to the idea of being part of a group after so long on her own.

She had every intention of just grabbing her day pack and heading out on a short run, but saw that Aaron and Eric had gotten her bike back into the garage at some point. _Those sweethearts. _Taped to the handlebar was a silver key tied to a string, with "Front gate" scribbled across it in black marker.

She got the bike out to the street, past the gate, and out into the woods. Once clear of the town, Star opened up full throttle, flying along the paved roads and throwing up swirls of fall leaves behind her.

She knew Sadelia was their best bet for long-term survival, but convincing the group that crossing the country for a place they had never seen was going to be tricky. Additional doubts were gnawing at her brain. _What if it's been destroyed by looters? What if someone turned there and tore the place apart? What if the solar panels or wind turbines were damaged? What if the house never worked in the first place?_

She shook her head to clear her head of such negativity. She wasn't a negative person, not even in the end of the world. She had to keep going, and be strong, because she never knew if anyone else would. She couldn't let the weight of the world worm into her brain, because that was what happened with Skye, and she couldn't end things like Skye.

She shook her head again, more aggressively, as if she could knock the tears for her brother back into her head. A rebellious tear slid down her cheek, and she muttered, "Stupid wind", even though there was no one else to witness as she roughly brushed it off her skin.

The thoughts kept tumbling through, the stress of the situation in Alexandria combining with her months of only looking out for herself. _You don't have to convince them. They can make their own decisions. They've made it this far, they'd probably be fine without you or Sadelia. You could just take the Jeep and go. You have enough to make it just fine. Abraham figured out most of the roads. Just copy the map and leave. It'll be safer with just one vehicle. That many people may not even be able to fit in Sadelia. They have Alexandria…_

"No!" She shouted out loud, coming to a screeching halt alongside the highway. Several birds fluttered out of the trees in reaction to her outburst, sending a shower of leaves down on her. Annoyed, she picked several fallen twigs out of her hair.

_No. _The memories of the previous few nights came flooding back, sending chills and warmth to her toes all at once. Daryl arched over her, kissing her senseless. Daryl's arm encircling her waist. His confession about the voices in his head, and how she made them go away.

_Daryl would come with me, if I asked. If I made a strong enough case…_

She took a deep breath, trying to stop her runaway brain from rambling any more.

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Star spent a few hours out in the woods, and came back with a pack full of mushrooms and firewood. She went back to her own house, and clipped the mushrooms up on a drying line in the garage and added the kindling to her growing pile next to the fireplace. While she was trying to get comfortable in the family homes, she still kept her stashes at her own place. _Just in case, _she tried to justify, but it still felt like keeping a secret.

She was taking some fully-dried lavender off another line and packing it into the Jeep when she heard her back patio door open and close. She immediately dropped to the floor, and crouching low, walked her way to her spear leaning next to the garage door. She flicked the lights in the garage off to give her the advantage of surprise.

Heavy footsteps sounded across her kitchen, and then went up two stairs, paused, and came back down. The person walked slowly towards the garage door, and Star concentrated on keeping her breathing quiet and her hand steady. Her toes tightened in her running shoes in anticipation of springing forward. The door handle slowly turned, and the door opened enough to let light in. Star waited longer, and saw that the intruder had nudged the door open and still had not crossed the threshold. A creak in the floor signaled that the person was waiting on the other side.

She held perfectly still, nerves setting her skin on fire and blood coursing through her limbs. The stranger stepped across the threshold and onto the first stair that led into the garage, pausing as they fumbled for the light.

Star saw her opportunity and seized it in a flurry of furious movement and steely strength. Her hand shot up and grabbed the wrist of the intruder, pulling them down the last two stairs and flipping them over in the process. She lost no time in pinning them down with a knee planted firmly in the sternum, another slamming into the ground to give her something to grip. The heavier tip of her spear quickly found the jugular, and she pressed down firmly to shut off airflow but not pierce the skin.

The stranger gasped at her frantically, hands flailing in the air and occasionally smacking into her thighs. She used the lighter side of her spear to pin down one arm, the other she secured under her planted knee.

"Fucking move and fucking die," she hissed venomously. The struggling immediately stopped, but the gasping did not.

Star saw one fatal flaw in her attack plan; they were still in the dark, and she had no idea who or what her attacker was. She took off her shoe on her planted foot and tossed it up at the light switch, effectively snapping on the lamps.

"Oh shit!" she exclaimed, springing off her captive in shock. A very panicked Daryl lay on her garage floor, clutching at his neck and staring at her in exasperation.

"I didn't realize it was you!" she shouted, and knelt next to him in concern. "Did I hurt you?"

"Damn woman," he managed to say.

"Don't 'woman' me," she snapped, but still pulled him to his feet and kept an arm around his waist in support.

"Well then don't fuckin' try ta kill me!" he shot back.

"Don't sneak around people's houses!" she retorted.

"I didn't know ya were here!" he answered. She rolled her eyes and they both sat on the middle garage door stair. "Jesus, who else would come in here?"

"I don't know, rogue walkers, townspeople out for revenge…" she suggested. "Whoever keeps carving 'W' on the walkers… the list really goes on and on."

"Next time ask 'who's there?, instead of trying to spear em," Daryl advised bitterly.

"I didn't spear you," she argued. He rolled his eyes at her. "But I am sorry," she relented. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he replied gruffly, rubbing the red spot on his Adam's apple. "Ya really know how ta use that thing," he admitted, kicking at the discarded spear on the floor. "I get the weights now."

She frowned at him having to learn that the hard way. To try to make it up to him, she got up and picked the spear off of the floor, as well as her thrown shoe, which she shoved back onto her foot. She flipped the weapon around in her hands a few times, and then held it out to him. He took it in both of his and clumsily waved it between his palms.

"Try to hit me with it," Star gestured for him to get up. He shot her a confused and shocked look.

"Na, Star, I don't need revenge," he insisted. She laughed.

"Don't worry, I know that, Angel," she confirmed. "Just…try."

He looked apprehensively at the small woman in front of him, and then at the heavy, dual-blades staff in his hands. Finally, he shrugged in surrender, and held it by the middle of the staff and took a half-hearted jab at her.

The heavily weighted side swung too far, and the weapon went wide, missing his target completely. He was taken aback- he rarely missed anything. She was smiling at him proudly, and stood perfectly still, gesturing for him to try again. He flipped the weapon around so the lighter side was behind him, but it flew up behind him as he swung forward, sending the tip pointed at Star down towards the floor.

"Told ya," he sighed. "'s broken. Can't be balanced."

She took the weapon from him, and backed away, and then swung the edge at him. The blade stopped a half inch away from his chest. He looked at her admiringly, and she triumphantly dropped the blade down to the floor.

"It can be balanced," she said simply. She leaned back against the hood of the Jeep, smiling fondly at the weapon in her hands. The smile fell away gradually, and she got a distant look in her eyes. Daryl crossed over to the Jeep as well, and climbed up the wide tires to sit behind her on the hood, one of his legs on either side of her. She leaned back against him.

"The first person I saw die up close was about three weeks after everything went to hell," she told him. "We were camped out in Virginia somewhere, and we had this camp of about twenty of us. Late at night, we were raided by some people on the road. This guy who had been leading us, Wright, had a gun trained on their leader. And in a second, the other guy grabbed Wright's gun and shot him with it. Right in the face, just…_bam_. Killed with his own weapon."

Daryl watched her intently as she recalled her gruesome tale.

"That never really left my mind," she finished, tossing the spear back and forth around her hips. "I was always aware that the knives protecting me could very easily end me if I dropped one, or someone wrestled it away from me. So when I got to Alexandria, I designed a weapon only I could use."

"That's why th' weights are off," Daryl understood. "Ya practice with it, and don't let anyone else have it. If someone else has it, they can't use it."

She nodded. "Exactly."

"'s smart."

"Thanks," she said, and put the weapon back on the floor of the garage. She turned and clambered up the tire well also, settling down next to him on the hood.

"What did you and Sasha find?" she asked.

"Nothin' much. One car, but it's shot. Gotta go out further to find somethin' useful."

She nodded. "I guess we will have to take the Jeep on some longer trips and see what we can find."

"Do ya mind? The group knowing ya have it?" He had noticed that she had not included her own household stash in the inventory list.

She shook her head. "I think I was hesitant to not have a backup plan. I even thought about leaving on my own for Sadelia," she confessed.

His heart felt like it had been stabbed. She had thought about leaving them?

But what he said was, "Makes sense. Ya'd have a better shot on your own."

She shook her head at him again. "Always the practical one. Don't worry, Daryl. It was a stupid, fleeting thought. As soon as I thought it, I dismissed it. I wouldn't leave you all, you especially."

Her outward affection made him blush and go silent.

"But I am going to miss hogging this Jeep all to myself," she confessed, patting the hood. "I barely got to use it, other than bringing it into Alexandria."

"Ya didn't get to take it on runs?" he asked.

"Nope, we usually took the camper or the Outback. It's been a garage trophy for a while now, waiting for the right time."

"Ya shoulda taken it out at least once," he admonished her. If he had such a vehicle, he wouldn't come back for days.

A spark of mischief lit up her eyes, and she abruptly swung her leg up and over his thighs, landing in a straddle, hovering over his lap. His eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up, trying to keep his uncertainty and surprise hidden.

It wasn't hidden enough, though, because she leaned in and asked quietly, "Are you ok? Is this too much?"

He visibly swallowed. "Na..this…'s fine. Just…not used to it." Having a beautiful, sassy woman in a long, tight body teasing and flirting and straddling him was a new experience. But he brought his hands around her to clasp both her hips as a sign to continue. She gave him a coy smile and, almost painfully slowly, slid her legs out along the hood until she was settled firmly across his lap.

He gazed up at her, pure admiration and astonishment pouring from his eyes. She blushed slightly under his intense gaze, and he amazed her by reaching up to her scalp and pulling her hair out of the elastic tie. Her long ombre hair fell down in a curtain around them, and she dipped down to capture his lips in a long, passionate kiss.

She pulled away just slightly, the sides of their noses still touching, and said teasingly, "I should have taken it out at least once?"

He was happily dazed by her presence and her attention, and did not understand her question. "Wha?" he mumbled against her lips, trying to capture them again. She laughed and pulled further back.

"You said I should have taken the Jeep out at least once."

"Ya," he responded, still lost.

The mischievous sparks turned to a roguish grin. "Well…tonight would be the last chance."

"Guess so," he agreed, leaning forward and trying to kiss her again. She giggled and put her hands on his chest to stop him, but rotated her hips so her center was directly pressing against the zipper of his jeans. His eyes rolled back into his head and a throaty gasp escaped from his lips.

"Come on Daryl," she whispered playfully in his ear. "Let's break in the Jeep tonight."

The feeling of her flush against him was fogging up his mind just enough to delay his understanding of her entendre, and he watched, baffled, as she slid off the hood and retrieved the keys from a basket near the door.

The meaning hit him as she reached the driver's seat of the door, and in an instant, he was flat on his feet, picking her up in his arms and grinning as she laughed and wrapped her long legs around his waist. He used her body to shut the ajar door and roughly, sloppily kissed her as her back braced against the cold metal.

When he pulled away, she unwrapped her legs and went for the door knob again, shaking her head in laughter. "I'm taking that as a yes?"

**Alrighty! Overnight Jeep camping! Whatever could happen? Lol. Please read and review. I'll update as soon as I can, I promise! **


	20. Are You Quite Done?

**Thanks for the feeback! I know everyone else is as excited by the recent Season 6 Trailer as I am, and it definitely gave me a feel for where the story needs to go. **

**Onwards and upwards! **

He let his head fall to the crook of her neck, muttering, "Yeah, that's a yes," into her soft skin. She smiled broadly and threaded her fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against her body. They both needed this. With a world constantly on the verge of chaos, the rare escape was not something to pass up.

A loud knock on the garage door echoed in the garage, drawing them out of the reverie. Star let out an audible, exasperated growl, but crossed to the garage door and hauled it up a few inches. Daryl was hot on her heels, crossbow at the ready.

Maggie's face appeared in the slit near the ground. "Rylynn, Deanna sent me over. She needs you at her house."

The night under the stars with Daryl disappeared before Star's eyes. She sighed in defeat and hauled the garage up more, gesturing for Maggie to duck under. The newcomer raised her eyebrows upon seeing Daryl in the outsider's garage, but a glare from him silenced her on the matter.

"What does Deanna need?" Star asked, already gathering her spear and its carrier as she walked into the house. Maggie and Daryl trailed after her.

"The townspeople are in an uproar," Maggie explained. "They don't want to follow Rick."

"And she wants me to be the voice of reason," Star rolled her eyes. "Convenient."

Maggie gave her a disapproving glance. "She just lost her husband, Rylynn."

"Who is over there?" Star powered through the woman's reprimand, crossing to the closet and selecting several pieces of clothing. Daryl turned around and pretended to be straightening the knives in the kitchen as she stripped down and began tossing clean clothing on.

"Aaron, Eric, Jessie, Sam, Ron…pretty much all of them," Maggie informed her, unfazed by Star's state of undress. "Glenn's there, trying to keep the calm, but they won't listen to him."

Star nodded and began to sloppily braid her long hair down one side of her neck. Daryl turned back around to find her dressed in loose, torn jeans, a short white cami, and a light blue lace wrap. She slipped her feet into a pair of worn, tan sandals and tossed the spear in its carrier over her shoulder. With only a, "Come on," to her two companions, she was out the door and down the street, purpose in her stride.

As they closed in on Deanna's house, she addressed Maggie. "I think it would be best if you and Glenn went back home. If they've already been arguing with you, your presence may cause some tension."

"Deanna's in no shape to be left alone," Maggie reminded her sharply.

"Deanna's in no shape to have another fight break out in her home," Star replied with the same tone. "You and Glenn can come back when the discussion is done." With that, Star stepped around the red head and approached the steps to Deanna's home.

Daryl grabbed Maggie's arm to keep her from entering the house.

"That ain't fair," he scolded her. "She's loyal to us. She moved into th' family house last night."

"Oh really?" Maggie challenged him. "And did she move that Jeep and all those supplies in, too?"

"She's gonna," Daryl protested. "Maggie, she's with us."

Maggie roughly pulled out of his grasp. "Just because she's with you, doesn't mean she's with us. Who knows what she's going to say to them once she kicks us out?!"

"I'll stay then," Daryl resolved. "You and Glenn done enough. Go home."

Maggie seemed mildly appeased by the solution, and nodded slightly. "Fine."

Glenn appeared at the doorway, looking slightly confused and entirely exhausted.

"Rylynn sent me out and said to go home," he informed them, taking his place at Maggie's side. "She's going to talk to them and try to find some sort of solution."

Maggie gripped his hand in hers. "That's fine, let's go," she answered, and with a pointed look to Daryl, the couple began their walk home. Daryl took a deep breath and walked into the home, closing the door behind him.

A small crowd had gathered inside the house. It reminded Daryl a bit of the group discussion they had once held inside Hershel's home, when deciding the fate of the injured teenage boy. Only this time, the only familiar face was Star's.

Deanna looked years older than she had the night previous. It was clear that she had spent most of her time crying, and very little sleeping. Jessie had a similar look on her face. Aaron and Eric looked up and smiled at him as he entered, and Aaron frowned, pointing at Daryl's crossbow. Daryl took the hint and placed the weapon behind a nearby wall, out of sight. Star, however, had kept her spear on her back.

Aaron, Eric, Sam, and Deanna seemed relieved to see Star there. The rest of the townspeople, who had all been so engaging, trusting and friendly towards her, now regarded her with hesitation and unease. Many gave him open looks of disgust. Star recognized this and stepped closer to him, challenging the townspeople.

"Rylynn, thank you for coming," Deanna began. "There has been some concerns about Rick Grimes being constable in this town, given last night's…events." Her voice began to fade at the recollection of Reg's demise.

"We were wondering," Aaron picked up, "what insight you might have."

"Yeah, you always seem to be hanging out with them now," a tall man in his mid-thirties spoke up, an accusatory tone edging in on his voice. "Especially that one." He jabbed a thumb in Daryl's direction.

"You all know Daryl," Star said meaningfully. Heads nodded across the room. "Now, are there any actual questions or concerns that we can discuss, please?" The conversation about her and Daryl's relationship was effectively shut down, and Daryl was grateful for it.

"Rick is unstable, and dangerous," a stout woman piped up. "He killed Pete, and he brought that biter into the courtyard!"

Murmurs of agreement rose up.

"The biter was already within the walls," Star reminded them promptly.

"But why bring it into a public place?" the woman continued. "It's unnecessary!"

Daryl wanted to jump in, but Eric beat him to it. "To make a point, Elise. The town isn't as safe as we've been assuming it is."

"Well, certainly not, if he's acting like that!"

"Elise, stop, please," Star cut in, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "The point is, biters can get into the town, and they already are. We are grossly unprepared to handle biters within these walls. Your reaction, instead of looking for weaknesses in the walls and training with weapons, was to complain that he dumped the evidence at our feet."

There was a brief pause as the townspeople realized that she was not there to comfort them, as she always had. This time, she was there to wake them up.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" the first man asked severely.

"The side that stays alive, Thomas," Star responded promptly. "Which one are you on?"

"We've been fine for two years, without incident!" Thomas wasn't backing down. "And then this group from Georgia comes in, and suddenly the world goes to shit!"

"The world went to shit two years ago," Star corrected him. "You've all been blessed enough to not have to see it. But now, it's coming in. Rick has seen what's on the outside. His family has survived reality. You have been hiding from it. There's no more space to hide. You're going to have to face it. Deanna has done an incredible job leading you in peace." The weary leader nodded in appreciation of the young woman's praise. "But now, it's war. And we need a leader experienced with battle. We need Rick, whether or not you like it."

"Rylynn, it's not that we don't appreciate what Rick has to offer," Jessie spoke up quietly. "But we want to keep some civilization. We've worked so hard to have real lives here, without violence."

"Jessie, I'm sorry, but that's not an option anymore," Star simply stated. "Either learn how to survive here with weapons, under Rick, or leave, with no skills and no idea what's out there."

"See?!" Thomas jumped in. "She's on their side! All these months living with us, and you never get close to anyone. But as soon as they show up, you become inseparable from Daryl!"

"That's not true, Thomas!" Aaron protested. "Rylynn has always been close with Eric and myself. Just because it wasn't with _you…"_

"Shut up, you bitch!" Thomas returned.

"Hey!" Eric hobbled to his full height.

"Man, cut it out!" Daryl injected, moving to stand between the shouting parties. Thomas shoved Daryl away from him.

"Stay out of it, fucking white trash!"

The foot came out of nowhere, flying past Daryl's shoulder and landing squarely on Thomas's nose. The man stumbled backwards into a wall, blood gushing from his nose.

Daryl turned to see Star lowering her leg back down to the floor, a cold look on her face. She grabbed a cloth napkin from the nearby table, and pressed it against Thomas's face. She twisted her grip slightly, and Thomas cried out in pain.

"Are you quite done?" she hissed at him. He whimpered in surrender. Roughly, she shoved him away from her and stood up straight to address everyone else. "This is how it's going to be. Out there, the biters will kill you for breathing. And the living will kill you for less. Stay and finally have to get your hands dirty, or take your chances on the road."

"Those are our choices?!" Elise interrupted. "Stay and comply, or die?"

"What do you want me to do, Elise? Lie? I've been doing that for you for months!" Star snapped. "I've been running around in the biter-infested woods, collecting the supplies you need for your cushy lives! I've counseled you through the nightmares that don't even compare to the things I've seen! I've killed your dissenters in the night so you don't have to see it! What more do you want from me?!"

Daryl saw the tears welling up in her eyes, the anger erupting from her balled fists. He moved closer to her and ghosted his fingers down her arm to her wrist. Her body stayed taught and tense; she was afraid that if she let go, she would fall to bits. All she wanted was to curl into his side and let the tears fall, but she had twenty sets of eyes on her, and a role to play. She wasn't Star, the lost intellectual and the last Laudine left; she was Rylynn, the confident, unshakeable runner. Right now, the world needed her to be Rylynn. But for the first time, all she wanted to do was be Star.

"This is the real world," she finally choked out. "This is the reality you've avoided for so long. There is no leaving it. So you better get used to it, and learn to live in it. Rick's in charge, and that's the end of that."

She turned sharply on her heel and marched out of the room, through the doorway and onto the porch. Daryl was prepared this time, and matched her step for step, his hand never leaving her arm.

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They walked all the way to the family home without a word. Upon entering the house, they were greeted with the sight of the entire clan collected in the living room, waiting for their return. Rick got to his feet when they walked into the room.

"Maggie and Glen told us what happened," Carol informed them. "What did they say?"

"Who cares?" Abraham rolled his eyes from the couch. "Buncha pussies anyway."

Star had gone silent, so Daryl stepped in. "They didn't want ya to lead em," he told Rick. "Last night spooked em. They're afraid ta get violent."

"What did you tell them?" Rick asked.

"That this is th' way it is now," Daryl answered. "Didn't much like it. Aaron and Eric might be on board. Some dude named Thomas started causin' issues."

"Issues how?" Michonne cut in.

"Callin' Aaron a bitch, and getting' at it with Eric," Daryl glossed over the details.

"Jesus," Rick said, shaking his head. "That's going to really set them against Aaron and Eric, our only two real connections with the group besides Star."

"I'd count me out, too," Star finally spoke. "I kicked Thomas in the face and twisted his broken nose."

"Awesome!" Carl called from the adjacent room.

"Star, you shouldn't have done that," Rick reprimanded. "That's only going to cause more of a rift between us and them."

"Rick, come on, the guy was askin' for it," Daryl protested.

"Petty fights are irrelevant now. We need to establish either total control or total confidence, and right now, we have neither."

"Rick, I understand what you're saying," Star acknowledged. "But I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. I don't tolerate disrespect."

"I get that," Rick sighed. "But next time, put your pride aside, please."

Star had had enough. She turned to Daryl. "I'm going to take a shower and sleep." She wished the rest of the group a good night, and disappeared up the stairs.

"Keep her under control," Rick told Daryl. Daryl gave a quiet laugh to that. Rick gave him a warning look.

"I mean it, Daryl. We can't have any more issues."

'Rick, that ain't my choice," Daryl reminded him. "Star's gonna do whatever she does."

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Quiet had settled over the group home. Almost everyone was asleep, and Star had not appeared to take her place on the couch. Daryl was sitting in the kitchen, pouring over the collection of maps Star had been working on. _Sadelia, Alexandria. Sadelia, Alexandria. _

Rick was in a similar mindset, his hands holding his head as he sat on the couch. A quiet knock came at the door.

"Rick?" a soft, feminine voice called. "It's me, Jessie."

Daryl made no move to open the door, believing it best to let Rick's affairs be Rick's alone. Rick crossed the room and opened the door, allowing the petite blonde in.

"Jessie, hello," he greeted. She moved to the couch and sat down heavily.

"Did you hear about Rylynn's talk at Deanna's?" She asked right away.

"I did. What are your thoughts?"

Jessie was quite for a few moments before speaking. "I…I think she had good points. I don't like it, but I think she was speaking the truth. She was actually getting through to a lot of people, but then with Thomas…I think she scared them."

"I understand. She shouldn't have done that."

"Oh no, I get why she did. He practically started a fight with Aaron and Eric, and what he said about Daryl was just wrong."

Another pause followed as Rick processed what she was saying. "What did he say about Daryl? I thought she was defending herself…"

"No, Thomas called him white trash when Daryl tried to stop the fight. I think that's mostly why Rylynn struck him. Regardless, people are still unsure. I think they would have trusted her word more, but they've seen her with Daryl so much…they feel her allegiances have changed, and her judgment has been clouded."

"You could speak to them, Julie," Rick suggested.

"I can't, Rick. Not with Pete's death…it's not right."

"I understand."

"Just…I just wanted to warn you that nothing's changed. It might be a good idea for Rylynn to stay out of the spotlight for a while. Daryl, too."

"Again, I can see why. Thanks for coming by, Jessie."

"Of course, Rick. I..really…I…"

An awkward silence followed. Daryl decided that he had heard enough. He silently crossed the kitchen to the staircase and left the two to their own devices.

Upon entering his room, he found it void of Carl or Abraham, but blonde and brown hair was sprawled across his customary mattress, Star curled around his pillow and fast asleep.

All the tension she had held in her body at the meeting strongly contrasted to the flowing, relaxed shape her limbs were in now. The tips of her hair were still damp; she had changed into a soft pair of shorts and loose top after her shower. He removed his jacket and vest, and, seeing the pair of sweatpants he had borrowed from her place folded on the desk, pulled those over his boxers. Uncertain of what to do, he slid his back down the wall, sitting near her head and watching her eyes quiver in her sleep. He cautiously lifted a hand to her shoulder and settled it there, taking note of the coolness to her skin.

Her golden eyes fluttered open and settled on his face, a lazy smile crossing her features. "Hey, about time," she mumbled. He gave her a crooked smile.

"Come here," she muttered, scooting over so she only took up half of the mattress. Daryl's eyes went wide and his blood rushed to his feet.

"'s ok," he replied. "I'm fine."

"Angel, don't be stupid. There's plenty of room."

"I'm fine," he insisted.

A hurt look flashed across her eyes. "Oh…okay then."

"Not like that," he whispered.

"Then what's it like?" she challenged. Try as he might, he couldn't find any answer.

"Exactly," she responded to his silence. "Please, Daryl? Don't be afraid."

He swallowed his fear and crawled onto the mattress wordlessly, settling down on the extreme opposite of her. She rolled her eyes in the dark at him, and promptly hauled herself up on her arms, leaning over him. Before he could question her actions, she leaned down across his chest and captured his lips in a deep kiss.

His brain, with all its previous objections and mockeries, went blank, and all he knew was her soft lips and cool skin, engulfing him and coursing through him. His hands went up around her waist to press her more firmly against him, and she responded by releasing her arms and falling completely on top of him.

After a series of long, intimate kisses, she settled her head on top of his chest, arms encircling his waist as she slid her torso off of him. His hands awkwardly floated above her until they settled around her shoulders and waist.

He knew he should feel nervous, and whisperings of the voice in his head echoed in his mind. _Too good for you…no good loser…she'll never really like anyone like you…Thomas was right…What if someone see you?_

But her steady, rhythmic breaths combated every doubt, and soon, he found himself lulling off to sleep.

**I know several of you will be disappointed that the inevitable was postponed, and I'm sorry for that! But never fear! I just felt there was more development to do in the community, and between Daryl and Star, before we get there. As always, reviews and commentary are greatly appreciated! **


	21. Making it Fair

**Thanks again to those that are reviewing! Please take the time to- I take any feedback very seriously and love reading your input!**

**I should clarify for Sadelia- it is a real place, in Colorado, between Denver and Colorado Springs. However, there is no mention of it in the comic books or TV shows. **

**On that note, onwards and upwards!**

Carol looked up from the stove as Carl entered the kitchen groggily, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely.

"Morning," he mumbled to her, crossing to the dining table and promptly dropping his head to his crossed arms melodramatically. Carol rolled her eyes at his antics. Even though Carl had to grow up a lot in such a short amount of time, he still has his childish flair sometimes.

"How did you sleep?" she asked, knowing he wanted her to.

"Terrible. I had to share a room with Abraham, Sasha and my dad, and they ALL snore," he moaned.

"Why didn't you sleep in your normal room?" she asked, stirring the pot of boiling water in front of her. A collection of dirty knives swirled around in the large container; they seriously needed to be sanitized.

"I was going to, but Star and Daryl are in there," Carl informed her. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she was careful not to let it show in a way that Carl would notice.

"Oh really?" she said evenly.

"It's disgusting," Carl responded, making Carol smile to herself. She had seen Carl's eyes stray to Enid on several occasions, but decided not to push the matter with the young boy. "They're sleeping on the same mattress and…blegh."

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"Angel…" Daryl heard a soft voice calling. He could feel cool, smooth skin sliding over his chest, tender breaths on his neck. The sweet scent of lavender filled his nose as he buried his face in silky, long hair. A giggle echoed in his ear, and long fingers played with his collar bone.

He had died, he decided. A walker had gotten to him, Rick had put him down, and someone accidently let him into heaven. Soon they would realize their mistake, and this creature would stop its ministrations.

"Daryl," it whispered, fingers dancing across his chest and weaving their way across his face. The way they traced patterns across his skin reminded him of the flitting, dancing way Star ran across the broken highway.

He tightened his grip around the entity next to him, feeling a thin, strong waistline and rippling core under his grip. He groaned out loud at the sensation and cracked his eyes open to take in the accompanying view.

Star's two-toned hair was shining in the morning light, her face inches away from his own. Her eyes were laughing at his waking routine, her fingers still etching invisible trails over the plains of his skin. Her shirt had ridden up in the night, exposing the abdomen that could only belong to an athlete.

Her index finger ran across the valley of his nose and the bridge of his forehead, trying to commit every movement to memory.

"What're ya doin?" he murmured.

"Memorizing your face," she confessed, barely whispering but her voice low.

"Why?"

"So no matter what happens, I can always see it," she told him. He blushed in response to her statement. He had never seen his face as comforting, or even his overall presence. But Star found everything about him affirming.

He brought his own hand up to rest against her cheek, and she happily leaned into his palm. The golden sparks in her eyes were luminous, her skin as cool as the morning air. He had a sudden urge to leave the dangers of Alexandria, to take her somewhere where they could spend their entire lives doing this, instead of wondering when their home would be destroyed.

"What's Sadelia like?" he asked her, catching her off guard. "Have ya even been there?"

She nodded, sitting up and crossing her long legs under her, dragging her hand down to his bicep and studying it intently. "I have. I went there a few times with some college friends, to float Bear and Plum Creek during the summers. It's along the front of the western slope of the Rockies, and it's just lush, green meadows and pine forests. Part of the town goes back into the mountain range. But there were always deer herds, and tall grasses in the summer. A lot of folks there had livestock or small farms."

It sounded like a paradise to him. He could hunt in the mountains and meadows, and they could travel between the major cities to scavenge for other supplies. He looked up at her and noticed the distant look in her eyes, tinted by a note of sadness.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked. Her eyes pulled into focus, and she gave him a smile.

"No, nothing's wrong. I'm just remembering Colorado. I think you really would have liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The mountains are just, so beautiful, Daryl. And they go on forever. It really changes your perspective on your own life. I lived there for almost six years, and every time I drove towards or along the mountains, they took my breath away. People were so nice there, too."

"Everywhere would be nice t' girl like ya," he commented, flirting in his own way. She caught on and pecked him on the cheek.

"Very smooth," she admitted. "But Colorado was special. People held doors open for each other. They came out to art festivals to celebrate and support each other's talents. Sharing was normal there, and not just excess, but everything you could. People made friends just walking around Downtown. They wanted to know who cooked their food and say thank you in person. It was…"

He started to see where the fire and friendliness in her came from. If her descriptions of her family held any truth, she inherited it from them. But the places she lived nurtured and continued those traits. It sounded like Colorado had surrounded her with the same values.

"…it was perfect for ya." he finished for her.

She nodded. "I hope it's still somewhat intact. I mean, I know it's unrealistic to think that it would survive when all the other major cities have fallen."

Daryl merely shrugged in response. He didn't want to crush her hopes, but it was highly unlikely.

"What was it like, living here?" she asked. "Would you miss it?"

He paused. He had never imagined leaving the South; it had never dawned on him that he had a reason to.

"Dunno, just like every other place," he deflected. "Don't matter much where I am." Inside, he was a little bitter. She had had a loving family, and apparently an incredible town to thrive in. She had grace and beauty and intelligence and an education. Everything he never had, and never thought he should. He had nothing in his life that he could compare that to. The South had never felt like a home, at least not the type of home she described. His family had never been a unified unit with its own, unique energy. Merle had been the closest thing to love he had in his life, and the more he heard her describe the love in her life, the more he realized how far from love Merle had been.

Suddenly, he lifted himself out of bed and gathered his clothes in his hand in one swift movement. Before she could even be startled, he was out the bedroom door and pulling the bathroom door shut behind him.

Star stared, bewildered, at the wake of his bolting. She racked her brain, trying to pinpoint what had set him off, but came up with no answers. She heard the shower turn on, and hemmed and hawed over whether or not to leave, or to pursue the issue.

She had made up her mind to simply go on a run and let him settle down, and pulled off her pajamas and stretched on a sports bra, t-shirt, and shorts she had brought with her. She slipped into some ankle-high socks and was padding past the occupied bathroom when a surge of stubbornness gripped her. Without knocking, she burst through the bathroom door, entered the steaming room, and firmly shut it behind her.

"What the hell?!" Daryl called out from the shower. "Carl, for the last goddamn time, keep yer shoes by th' door!"

"It's me!" Star snapped back. She strode over to the curtain and, before she could be overcome by nerves, yanked the curtain aside to reveal a very wet, very naked, very surprised Daryl.

"What the fuck Star!" he yelled, but she spoke over him.

"I don't think it's fair that you get to just storm out of a conversation when you don't like what's being said, especially when it only makes sense in your head!" she plowed through his protests. "If you want a family, and friends, you have to communicate with them, instead of just leaving whenever you damn well feel like it! Being vulnerable and getting hurt are two parts of loving people! And they can be parts of an awesome process, but you have to actually stick around to see it through!"

She never once broke eye contact with him, even as her arms and hands gestured wildly around her. He continued to stare at her in bafflement, at first trying to cover himself but losing focus when her words reached him. His mouth dropped open and then he snapped it closed. She stood there in front of him, chest heaving with adrenaline and anger, eyes boring through him.

"Well?!" she said, exasperated.

"Well wha?" he shot back.

"Well!...responding is part of that process!" she elaborated sarcastically.

"I…uh…" he stuttered. She dropped her head into her open palm, frustrated.

"I'm sorry!" Daryl said defensively. "This ain't the best time ta be havin' a talk, don't ya think?! Ya can't just barge in on a man takin' a shower and yell at 'im! It ain't fair!"

Star's eyes grew large and she rolled them. "Ok, fine!" she hollered, and began pulling her sports bra over her head.

"What are ya doin?!" Daryl panicked.

"I'm making it fair!" Star shot back as she hopped on one foot, trying to pull her socks and the last leg of her shorts off at the same time. Daryl cast his eyes down at the tile floor as her socks, bra, panties and shorts were inelegantly discarded onto the floor. She stepped into the shower, bare and beautiful, and he had nowhere to look that was safe. He tried to drag his gaze up to her defiant face as quickly as possible, but got enough of a glimpse to make his blood flood from his extremities. Tan skin, small, white breasts and curved thighs, lean and chiseled calves and abs, and hair sticking to her sides and back. He met her eyes, trying to mask his arousal with pertinence.

"There, now we are fair," she insisted.

Daryl disagreed. This wasn't fair at all. Water droplets were turning into streams down her breasts and stomach and sides and it was almost impossible to keep himself from leaning over and lapping them off of her skin. Her hair was growing darker as the water stained it, and droplets of steam clung to her eyelashes. Her eyes bore into him with almost laser-like intensity and focus, and it was setting every one of his nerves on fire.

She noted his tense posture and thought that this was finally it. She had pushed him too far, and now he was going to snap and shut her out forever. Star had finally overstepped his boundaries, and it was going to cost her.

But he didn't holler at her to get out. He didn't exit the shower in a huff. He wasn't trying to force her out, either. Instead, he was standing rigidly still, with only his chest rising and falling with each breath, seemingly caught in indecision.

Exasperated, she took a step into him, challenging him. "Do _something_, Daryl."

She barely got his name out before he grabbed her face with both of his hands and smashed his lips into her with such force that she stumbled backward into the spray. Her back hit the cold blue tiles but the shock barely registered as his tongue pried her lips apart. Her hands snaked up his bare back and intertwined along the back of his neck, pulling him even deeper into him.

She tasted like mint and lavender and fire, and felt like a summer evening breeze, he thought. His hands were being held awkwardly at his sides, not knowing where they were supposed to go. Her fingers unlatched and dragged their way down his spine, back up to his shoulders, and down his arms to his hands. Without breaking the passionate kiss, she guided his hands to her hips and rested hers on his. His nails dug into the skin taught across her hips, trying to fight the urge to pull her pelvis flush with his.

Star, however, lacked the same restraint. She pulled him into her as she pushed her own back against the tiles, trying to encourage him without words.

Daryl tugged his lips from hers and hazily opened his eyes to take in the sight of her. Her feet were several shades lighter than the rest of her, the deep tan starting at her ankles where her running shoes cut across her legs. Her legs were carved from hard, rippling marble the color of chestnut, her calves sharp and her thighs sloping and thick. A small patch of black hair sat between her legs, and the valleys and hills of her abs started right above the dips across her thighs. They ended below the soft dip of her small breasts, which were the same color as her sun-deprived feet.

She watched his eyes travel the length of her body and suddenly felt self-conscious. She knew she was in great shape, given her physically demanding role in Alexandria, but she really wanted him to love her body. She knew many men would prefer her curvier, with larger breasts. But her body was a machine, a vessel to carry the needs of her community.

She occupied her mind by giving him the same treatment. He was long and lean, too, with definite definition but not a lot of bulk. His skin was covered evenly in sparse hair in various shades of brown. His arms were clearly his most utilized component, with large biceps and toned forearms. She tried not to linger too long on his manhood, but noted that it was currently thick, and standing long and proud. His long hair was now reaching pat his neck in the back, the front, wet strands clinging to his cheekbones.

They met back at each other's eyes, and to relieve the almost unbearable sexual tension, Star joked, "Not bad."

The flirt caught Daryl off guard, and he let out a chuckle. "Not too bad yerself," he admitted, trailing the curve under her breast with a finger and making her heart stop as she fought back a groan. She lunged at him and attacked his lips with hers ferociously, this time being the one to tangle her tongue with his. She floated her hands down his sides and wrapped them around to his ass, squeezing one cheek in each hand. He moaned into her mouth and flipped her around, pressing her up against the dry tiles on the opposite side of the shower. She nipped her way down his neck and lapped up the water droplets along his collar bone, feeling his nails dig into her hips and his erection hardening against her stomach in response. He roughly tangled a hand into her hair and pulled her head back and away from him, only to lower his own lips to her chest and take one of her pink nipples between his teeth.

She let out a yelp of pleasure and then bit her lips together to keep from making any more noise in the quiet of the morning. He, however, enjoyed her noises, and seemed to be determined to make her produce more as he continued his ravishing. Until she surprised him, by sliding her wet body down towards the floor and stopping at his protruding member. She devilishly looked up at him from her position.

"May I?" she asked quietly. Daryl wordlessly nodded, and his eyes slid shut as her warm, soft, tight mouth encased his cock.

His body completely shut out all external senses; all he could feel was her fingers wrapping around the lower half of his extremity as her lips caressed his tip. He let out a particularly loud groan, and felt her giggle around him, causing even more sounds to try to escape his mouth until he partially bit down on his fist, leaning his head against the tiles.

Her hand left its post and gently rested on his thigh, and he cracked his eyes open enough to see her slide her lips all the way down his shaft, engulfing him.

_Holy shit, where the fuck did this woman come from? _He wondered in amazement as she rotated her tongue around his head and bobbed him in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him and saw him staring, open-mouthed, and winked at him without stopping her rhythm. A noise from deep within his chest fought its way out of him, spurring her to quicken and deepen her movements even further.

"Star, I'm…" he managed to gasp out, and she understood him. She pulled her mouth away with one last, long suck, but continued to carry on with her hands lightly gripped around him. He went tumbling over the edge, the evidence splaying across her chest and long fingers.

He slowly floated back down to Earth, finally opening his eyes to find her rinsing off in the now-lukewarm water. He leaned his head down to the crook of her neck and muttered "Thank ya" before pressing a soft kiss there.

She smiled at him and responded with "You're welcome, Angel."

Daryl wanted to offer her the same gift in return, but she seemed to be happy running the soap over her skin. She looked so happy and peaceful that he felt almost rude asking her if she wanted anything more.

She seemed to read his mind, because she lifted his chin to meet her gaze, saying, "Don't worry, you don't owe me a return." The genuine glow in her eyes conveyed truthfulness; she was happy merely to experience his happiness.

Her expertise, paired with her selfishness, made Daryl feel like he had truly fallen down an unfamiliar path. Sure, he had had crushes in his childhood, and plenty of sexual encounters with other women. But this sleek, positive creature that radiated confidence and comfort was unlike anyone, or anything, that he had ever experienced. The way she was struck him as unparalleled, and the way she made him feel was foreign, yet enticing and calming.

Watching her rinse her long, mismatched hair in the spray and blushing at the way he was looking at her, he couldn't help but identify with her for the first time. _I'm afraid to have someone to live for…I'm afraid I've already found it. _

He had been merely _existing_ for over thirty years in his normal life, before everything went to hell. He had been only _surviving _for the first year and a half of fighting and fleeing from the undead. He had found something to _strive_ for when Rick had called him brother.

With Star, and his newfound family, for the first time in his life, he had something he actually wanted a life with; something to _live_ for.

**Please let me know what you think about this latest development!**


	22. She Cared, and She Didn't

**Thank you for the reviews! I enjoyed reading them and hearing your feedback on the latest development. **

"Earth to Daryl," Star's voice broke his reverie. She was holding out a towel to him, watching him with amusement. He took it from her, muttering thanks, and began to dry off. She chuckled to herself and crossed the steamy room to the mirror, wiping a clear section off with the palm of her hand.

Daryl felt like he should say something, anything, but for the life of him couldn't come up with anything that didn't sound painfully awkward. Star, on the other hand, seemed at ease in the silence following their sexual encounter. She was pulling her long hair into an elaborate plait starting on the side of her head and spiraling down to the back of her neck, quietly singing under her breath.

_Rivers and roads_

_Rivers and roads_

_Rivers till I reach you. _

_Rivers and roads, oh rivers and roads_

_Oh, rivers till I reach you. _

She finished with a tie to keep the braid in place, and turned to smile at him.

"That's…that's nice," he finally muttered. She wasn't sure if he was talking about the song or her hair, but brightly said, "Thanks."

She crossed over to the pile of discarded running clothes on the floor, acutely aware that his eyes were following her around the small space. Casually, she dropped the towel that was wrapped around her to the floor, and bent over to dig through the pile. She heard Daryl's breath catch behind her and smiled slyly to herself.

Sure, she loved running, but she was discovering her new favorite hobby; it was nothing short of hilarious and exhilarating to tease Daryl Dixon.

She selected her shorts, bra and shirt from the heap and pulled them on one by one. Now clothed, she turned around to find Daryl using his towel to shake out his hair. She was going to make a flirty remark to him, but the words caught in her throat as the sunlight illuminated several long, crisscrossing lines across his back.

_Scars, _she realized. _They're more scars. _

Daryl sensed her stillness and was about to turn around to see what had given her pause when he realized what he had left exposed. He hurriedly dropped the towel down around his shoulders and turned around to see if she had seen his marred back. Her wide eyes radiating concern gave him his answer.

"Don't," he warned, just as he had done with the scar on his hand.

"Daryl, I…" she started, but was cut off by an even sharper, "Don't, Star!"

He expected her to push back, to insist on knowing who and how and why. Half of him wanted her to, and the other half was ready to storm out of the room, again.

"Okay," she said in response. His shock showed plainly on his face. She crossed to him in two light steps and took his hand in hers.

"I respect your no," she affirmed, and let go of his hand as she exited the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Daryl was left in the room alone, the air heavy with warm water droplets, his hand tracing the very tops of the harsh lines along his shoulder.

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When she was a child, Star had run on the left of Echo, an earbud in her right ear and the left one dangling. She had listened to her sister's stories and musings while letting the melodies keep pace for them. Echo, of course, ran with nothing to distract her from the endless life in the world around her.

_But music is gone, and so is Echo_, Star thought as she ran in silence. The only things left of them in this crazy world was what she could remember.

Star had loved to listen to rock and salsa music when she ran, until Echo came back from her first semester in the South and introduced her to bluegrass music. She had been a fan of some certain bands, and added them to Star's running playlist on their shared music accounts for when she wasn't there. Despite her original objections, Star found the songs to be great pace keepers, and had listened to them so much on her long mountain runs that their tunes and lyrics had become subconsciously associated with running.

_All it'll take is just one moment, and…_

_You can say goodbye to how we had it planned. _

_Fear like a habit, run like a rabbit_

_Out and away, _

_Through the screen door to the unknown…_

_And I want to love you and more,_

_I want to find you and more._

_Where do you reside when you hide?_

_How can I find you?_

The words and instruments drove her through the forest. Since encountering the smaller herd on the highway, she intended to avoid the area. Her spear's carrier was tight across her chest to keep the weighty weapon from smacking into her spine. While she felt confident in her skills with the weapon, she preferred not to use it if she could avoid it.

Her eyes were peeled for a vehicle that she could bring back to Alexandria. Other members of the family had begun a grid search, but they were sticking to the highways and major roads, hoping that quantity would lead to quality. Star had a different idea; in this reality, anything worth using was worth hiding. She knew of a small cluster of cabins down the same dirt road that led to the mechanic's garage, and was hoping that someone had beat her to the worthwhile vehicles at the garage and stashed them there.

Rescuing the group destroyed both search vehicles, leaving only Star's Jeep as the available mode for transportation for the family. If they could get Eric and Aaron on board, they would have the Subaru. But that only totaled to ten seats, and they needed twelve for Rick's family, plus herself, and Aaron and Eric, as well as Enid, potentially. Sixteen travelers total, so they were lacking at least one large vehicle, preferably two in case one failed them on the road.

She heard a motor sound across the forest, and ducked down into the lower foliage to hide, one hand promptly reaching back for her spear. A familiar green Outback was visible through the trees, on a road about two hundred yards away. The car came to a slow, quiet stop, and Star saw that it wasn't Aaron or Eric driving, but an unfamiliar woman with shoulder-length brown hair. The woman held her hand up as a visor as she peered around at the surroundings, her face coming into Star's view.

"Maggie?" Star called from her hiding spot. Maggie immediately had her gun out of her waistband and in her hands, aimed squarely in Star's path.

"Who's there?" Maggie demanded. "Come out now."

"Relax," Star soothed as she slowly stood up, although her hand remained on her weapon, too. "It's me, Star."

Maggie didn't lower her firearm. "Why are you hiding?"

Star didn't relax, either. She hadn't decided to trust the young woman yet. "Because I didn't know who was driving up…"

Maggie accepted her answer and put her gun back into its holding place. Star relented as well, dropping her hand to her side as she quickly stepped out of the trees and onto the concrete road next to the car.

"What're you doing out here?" Maggie asked. She was still uncertain about the newcomer, and was often put off by her presumptuous and abrasive personality.

"Looking for vehicles we can use," Star replied curtly. "What are you doing out here?"

"The same thing," Maggie informed her. "Aaron and Eric let me borrow their car." She threw a thumb in the direction of the Subaru.

"Ah, yeah, I see that," Star acknowledged. The two then stood in an awkward silence, star swaying back and forth nervously and Maggie chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"Well I was…" Star said, overlapping with Maggie saying, "Actually, I think…"

They both stopped and looked at each other, Maggie sighing.

"Go ahead," Star prompted.

"Um, yeah. I was actually looking for a road that Aaron and Eric told me about. I think I passed it."

Star jumped at the chance to prove her usefulness to the skeptical family member. "What's it called?"

"They said it didn't have a name. It's just a dirt road that leads to a shop and some properties."

"Oh!" Star proclaimed. "No, you haven't passed it. I was heading for it myself, actually. But the shop is definitely empty of working cars."

"Seriously? Shit," Maggie murmured, clearly disappointed.

"Yeah, Daryl and I were there a week or so ago. It's got some parts, though, which might be useful if we find a vehicle."

Maggie shook her head. "We feel pretty bad about the search cars getting destroyed, you know."

Star's eyebrows raised. This was a softer side of Maggie that she hadn't expected. Maggie seemed like a no-nonsense, my way or the highway kind of person. Star jumped on the chance to smooth some of the waves between them.

"It's not a big deal," Star shrugged casually. "That old RV was about to die, anyhow."

Maggie gave a small smile in appreciation of her effort.

"Anyway," Star continued, "there's a couple of cabins hidden on that road, past the shop. I haven't checked them out yet, but they might have a vehicle or two no one has found. You might try there."

"Ok, thanks," Maggie nodded. There was another pause, and Star was about to wave goodbye and continue on her run when Maggie blurted out, "Can you show me where?"

Star nodded and climbed into the front passenger seat as Maggie walked around to the driver's side. The two women set off down the deserted street.

"Normally I go off the highway, but this road runs pretty parallel, so we should be making a right in about half a mile," Star let Maggie know. The brunette nodded to show she understood.

"Look," Star started, sensing this was a good time to begin again with Maggie, "I'm sorry about kicking you and Glenn out of Deanna's the other night. I thought it was the best course of action, but I didn't want to hurt or insult either one of you."

Maggie didn't respond, and kept her eyes locked on the road. After several tense minutes, she spoke.

"I heard you kicked Thomas in the face at that meeting."

"Ah…" Star panicked. "Yes, I did."

Maggie pursed her lips, and Star didn't know her well enough to tell if it was in amusement or disgust. "Why?"

_Well, here we go. The do or die moment, _Star thought. "Because he was being a dick."

Maggie snorted, and Star felt relief flood through her. "I know that. He's a pain in the ass. But why specifically that moment?"

"He was being disruptive, trying to get people riled up. He called Eric a bitch, and then Daryl tried to intervene, and he called Daryl white trash."

Maggie's eyes went wide. "So you kicked him in the face?"

"He wouldn't shut up, so I shut him up," Star defended. "Maybe not the most civil or elegant of solutions, but I don't tolerate disrespect."

"Well, I'd stay away from him for the rest of forever, then," Maggie advised. "He won't stop talking about it with the other townspeople."

Star dropped her head back to the headrest in exasperation. "Oh joy."

"He says you're under our influence, and that you're blindly obsessed with Daryl."

Star laughed. "Well, that goes to show exactly how well Thomas knows me, I suppose. The road is right here."

Maggie turned the car onto the dirt road and then tore her eyes from the windshield to look at her companion. "Well, you are with Daryl, though."

"Well… I'm not _blindly obsessed_ with him…" Star clarified.

"But you are with him?"

Star rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "Well….I mean…"

"You don't know if you're with him?" Maggie pushed.

"I'm with your family," Star deflected. It was Maggie's turn to roll her eyes.

"Oh please, that is such a cop out!" she teased.

Star giggled. "Isn't this where I am supposed to insist I don't believe in labels?"

The two women laughed at the notion.

"But seriously," Maggie pushed.

Star buried her face in her hands and groaned. "I don't know! I don't know what we are, or even who I am to him!"

Maggie let out a peal of laughter at the girl's frustration. She realized that the confident, relentless energy Star had was just one, small dimension to the woman.

"How did you know when you were 'with' Glenn?" Star prodded, desperate to turn the conversation from her and Daryl. Maggie furrowed her brow but kept smiling.

"I don't really know… I guess, I mean…it just kind of happened."

"See?! Exactly!" Star exclaimed.

"Things do NOT just 'happen' with Daryl Dixon," Maggie insisted. "We don't even know what he was doing before the end of the world."

"He worked in a car shop," Star responded.

"See! I have known him for a year and I didn't know that. He refused to tell us," Maggie pointed out.

Star shrugged. "I don't know how it happened. I don't even know what 'it' is. I'm trying not to push it."

Maggie nodded in understanding. "Glenn and I tried to keep things quiet, too, but mostly because my father was with us." Her face fell at the memory of her kind, wise father.

Star set a comforting hand on Maggie's shoulder. "Maggie, I'm really sorry about your dad. I've heard so many incredible things about him, and he sounds like a great man. The world was lucky to have him."

"Thank you," Maggie said, comforted by the words. "But…your father isn't here, right?"

"No. I lost my family early on," Star told her. "I don't have a problem with people knowing, but Daryl doesn't seem comfortable with it."

"I'm sure it's nothing personal," Maggie reassured her. "Daryl's a private guy. It takes him time to get used to other people."

Star took this information in with a nod.

"How's Deanna doing?" Star asked.

"Alright, given the circumstances," Maggie responded. She pulled the car to the side of the road, in front of a small cabin tucked back in the trees. "This one has a garage. Come on," she invited, cutting the engine and exiting the car.

The two woman grew increasingly at ease with each other as they raided the vacation home for supplies. Maggie gave Star a huge smile when the later found a stash of Girl Scout Cookies in the pantry, and the two cheered and exchanged a high-five when they discovered a Toyota Highlander in the double garage. After using the Subaru to jump the new vehicle, the two made their way back to Alexandria as the sun reached its noon peak.

"Let's keep this quiet and bring it straight back to the house," Maggie suggested as she opened the gates to Alexandria.

"Just in case," Star agreed. The phrase had become their justification for everything, and it had an unspoken second half. _Just in case…we abandon this town. _The two quietly made their way through the gate and shut it as silently as possible behind them, padlocking the panels. Maggie took the Subaru back to Aaron and Eric's, and Star drove her way around the generally empty perimeter of town until she reached the two family homes. She hauled the garage open by hand and drove the vehicle in, double checking her six before sliding the door closed again.

Sasha, Carl, Rosa and Eugene were home, and came into the garage to investigate the ruckus.

"Merry Christmas!" Star exclaimed as she jumped down from the driver's seat. "Hope you've all been…decent…this year."

Eugene promptly popped the hood and nodded as he examined the engine. "The guts look pretty good," he noted.

"Like you even know what you're looking at," Rosa chided.

"Where's Daryl?" Star asked. "I was hoping he could take a look at it and see what we need in terms of parts."

"I think he went over to Aaron's a while ago," Carl told her. "I'll go with you. I have a book Eric lent me."

"Sure thing," Star smiled, and the two set off for their neighbors'.

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"Aaron! Eric!" Star called from the front lawn.

"In here!" Aaron's voice responded from the open garage. Star and Carl crossed the driveway and found Aaron and Eric with the Subaru Maggie had just brought back.

"Something happen to the Outback?" Star inquired. "We just took it out, and it was driving just fine."

"We're just making sure it keeps running fine," Eric stated. "Maggie said you guys found another car?"

"Yep! I was hoping to steal Daryl away to check it out. Is he here?"

"He's inside, washing up," Aaron said, just as the man in question walked through the door.

"Oh, Eric, I brought this back," Carl said, handing the man the book. Star took the opportunity to cross to Daryl.

"I have something for you," she joked. "It's back at the house."

Daryl looked apprehensively at her, and Star noticed it immediately.

"What?" she questioned.

"Wha?" Daryl responded. "Didn't say nothing."

Star's posture and facial expression immediately took on her direct, relentless stance. "Oh no you don't," she said, grabbing him by the arm. Before he could protest, she was dragging him out of the garage and down the driveway.

"Bye Ry! Bye Daryl!" Aaron joked after them. Star waved at them with her free hand.

"Star, cut it out, will ya?!" Daryl protested, but she continued. Once they were out of earshot from their friends, she pulled him between two empty houses and released his arm, crossing hers in front of her chest.

"Why are you acting weird?" she pushed.

"I ain't!" Daryl protested.

Star huffed at him. "Is it because I saw your scars?"

All of his defensive walls immediately flew up. He turned his back to her and began to walk away, but she caught him by the arm again.

"Knock it off!" he barked.

"No!" she shot back. "Not until you talk to me."

"Ain't nothing to say!"

"Fine, then I'll do all the talking, AGAIN! I'm not treating you any differently because of your scars. So you don't get to treat me differently because of them, either."

He was taken aback, and his face softened. "Wait, wha?"

"I said," Star repeated testily, "that I'm not treating you any differently because of your scars, so you…"

He held up his hand to silence her. "I heard ya. You…you don't care?"

"Care? Of course I care!" she whispered harshly. He seemed confused.

"I care that some monster put them there," she clarified. "I care that they hurt you. I care that they obviously still hurt you. But I don't care that they are there. They don't change how I see you, and they don't change how I feel about you."

Daryl stared in amazement at her. Ever since the scars had appeared on his skin, he had taken great care to not show them to anyone, fearing witnesses would see them as weakness. They were evidence of a childish, stupid, blind devotion to earn his father's approval and love.

But now someone had seen them. He had been so comfortable around her that he had forgotten they were there, for the first time in his life. And she cared, and she didn't care.

"Someday," he promised her. Confusion flashed across her face.

"I'll tell ya 'bout them," he explained. "Someday."

She took his hand in hers, squeezing it in reassurance. "Ok, Angel. Someday. I'll hold you to that."

He leaned in and captured her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. They pulled away and she bounced backwards, already pulling him towards the family home.

"But today," she instructed, "we take a look at the car I brought you."

**Please review! I live for review notifications! And also for my tomato plants to produce actual tomatoes, but there's not much you readers can do about that. **


	23. It's Totally Fine

**It's my second chapter for the day! I've had a bizarre day (I write a blog about feminism in the modern workplace, and one of the specific workplaces I worked at and did a cultural criticism of…well, they found my blog. So they were not thrilled.) Anyway, the last chapter, I feel, was decent but not great. So I owe y'all another one. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

"How's it look?" Rick asked Daryl, who was up to his elbows in the engine of the Highlander.

"'s a good find," Daryl informed the leader. "Hybrid, too, so'll need less gas."

"Maggie and Star did well, then," Rick grinned, happy with the day's productivity. "Your girl seems to be fitting in well with us."

"She don't like being called girl," Daryl warned him as he dropped the hood back down, and Rick smiled when Daryl didn't correct the "your".

"You know, it's not a bad thing to trust someone," Rick advised his friend. "I get why you don't. But Star seems like a decent person, and she obviously…likes you."

Daryl kicked at the concrete floor with the toe of his boots, eyes cast down. "Why does ery'one seem keen on meddlin' in my business?"

"Probably because you seem so eager to hide it," laughed Rick. "She's a beautiful woman, and we all like her so far. It's a mystery to us why you pretend you don't, too."

Daryl chose not to respond, and Rick had to stifle a laugh. He trusted Daryl explicitly, and loved the man like a brother and best friend. He had come a long way from being Merle's carbon copy to the most trusted member of the family, but there was still a lot Daryl had to come to terms with. It seemed like loving someone beyond friendship was one of those things.

While Daryl had been careful to avoid outward signs of his preference for Star, Rick and Carol had noticed all the subconscious signs. His eyes rarely left her when she was in the room. Ever since the party, he stood literally by her side. When Carl and Star had come sprinting down the street, Daryl hadn't hesitated to reach out to hold her. Not to mention that they hadn't spent the night apart since the party.

Star's preference for Daryl was apparent, too, although she didn't seem as set on hiding it. Rick had it on good authority that Daryl had been the first person to enter Star's home; she had chosen his family over the safety and comfort of association with the townspeople. Not to mention her reaction to Thomas's insulting the man.

"'s nothing," Daryl responded.

"What's nothing?" a female voice asked from the driveway. Rick and Daryl peered around the car to find Star, still in her running gear, walking into the garage space.

"Ah, nothin'," Daryl said quickly. Star clearly didn't believe him, and set her gaze on Rick.

"Rick?" she prodded. He laughed at her.

"Really, Star, it's nothing of importance," he assured her.

"If you say so, boss," she mock saluted. "How's the present I brought you?"

Daryl wiped his hands on his jeans. "Looks good. Don't need no parts or nothin'. Should be good to go, long as the battery lasts."

"Awesome!" Star cheered. "If it's good to go, I was hoping to move it over and bring my car here, too."

"Sure," Daryl responded, overlapping with Rick's, "Your car?"

Star nodded to both. "Yes, and yes Rick, my car. I found it shortly after arriving here and have been stocking it up. There's actually a lot of supplies in my house."

"We should put th' stuff from th' closet in th' Totoya," Daryl suggested. Star nodded in agreement.

"Brilliant idea."

"Hold on," Rick stepped between the two. "What?!"

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"Holy shit," Rick swore as he looked around the garage. Dried herbs hung on strings across the ceiling. The red and black jeep Wrangler was, truly, fully loaded. Daryl and Star were loading the extra items from the closet and living room into the Highlander, and soon both cars were full.

"We should wait until it's dark to move them back to the house," Star thought. "People seeing a caravan might raise some red flags."

"How…how the hell do you have _this much_ stuff?" Rick asked, baffled. His group had never had this many tents, clothing, and gear, unless he counted the peak of the prison.

"I had a lot of time, and my job was retrieving supplies," Star reminded him. "No one really ever questioned if I had found more than I turned into storage. The jeep was a lucky find at a dealership about twenty miles out. They're hard to hotwire, because of all the gadgets."

"And you figured it out?" Rick asked, seriously impressed, but Star shook her head.

"No, I found the keys," she grinned. "No one ever checks the wash bay for keys."

Daryl grinned with pride in spite of his own reservations. _Smart woman. _

"And you gathered all of this in _how long_?"

"About sixty days," Star responded matter-of-fact. "I hate having nothing to do."

Rick nodded as he looked at the two cars, bursting at the seams. "Yeah. I can see that."

"We can drive 'em back after…" Daryl proposed, but was cut off by screams echoing through the garage. In an instant, he tossed the spear to Star from where she had propped it against the wall, lifting his crossbow from the same place. Rick had his gun out, crouching low and walking stealthily towards the driveway. The other two followed him, Star pulling the garage door shut manually behind them.

A townswoman was running full-speed towards them, screaming and sobbing. Behind her, two walkers were in pursuit. One had its arm partially torn from the socket, another had no eyeballs left after extensive decay.

"Shit," Daryl muttered. The three began sprinting towards the hysterical woman, weapons still drawn. Startled by their appearance, she halted in her tracks, arms raised in surrender.

"No, don't shoot!" she cried. Behind her, the two biters shuffled forward, and four more, torn and decaying and oozing, appeared around the corner she had just turned.

"Merida, keep running!" Star hollered. The woman shook her head viciously, tears streaming down her face. Clearly, all rational had left her.

"For fuck's sake!" Star now screamed at her. "Merida RUN!"

"No, he…he'll kill me!" Merida cried, pointing a quaking finger at Rick.

"Jesus," Daryl muttered under his breath.

"Rick, lower your weapon," Star commanded.

Rick shot her a confused look.

"RICK NOW!" Star commanded again. The sheriff lowered his gun to the ground.

"Get her, no gun!" Star directed. "Daryl, cover me." She leaned into a full sprint, her spear in one hand, with Daryl hot on her heels.

Rick ran up to the frightened woman, grabbing her by the arm. She began screaming and flailing, try to shake free of his grasp.

"Come on!" he shouted at her, practically dragging her towards Star's house.

Star began swinging her spear, her precision reminding Daryl of Michonne as she stabbed and sliced her way into the hoard. The first walker she encountered was neatly speared through the empty eye socket, effectively ending its reign of terror. Daryl shot the second through the temple, and it dropped to the ground as a heap of rot. Star was already on to the third, spinning the spear around once and driving the lighter end through the jaw and well into the cerebellum. An arrow pierced right above the ear, rendering the fourth walker dead. Daryl pulled his crossbow into an upright position, leaving the last walker for Star. It was meandering slightly farther behind, so she had a few seconds to shake off the previous kills and twirl the spear around her back in preparation. It held a grey, skeletal hand out for her, a deep rasp emitting from the remnants of its lungs. Star smirked at it, and, using just beyond the blade of the heavier side, forcefully smashed the pole against the skinny arm, ripping it clean from the torso.

_Damn, _Daryl thought, admittedly impressed at her tactics. But Star wasn't done with this walker.

She circled behind it, keeping a spear's distance between her and the remaining reach of the corpse. Using the heavier side again, she swept at its knees while jumping to the side, destroying both kneecaps with a sickening _crack. _The walker crumpled to the ground, but continued dragging itself along with its remaining arm, its empty eyes fixed on the young woman.

Star planted a firm step across the walker's shoulder blade, immobilizing it. Its teeth gnashed as it tried to twist its head around to snap at her ankles, but before it could tear the tendons from its neck, Star thrust her spear into its skull, and the body beneath her feet went slack.

Blood was pumping triumphantly in her ears, and she grinned down at the defeated creature. She lifted her eyes from the battle, expecting to find Daryl nearby. His back was turned to her, however, and he was looking at the sidewalk across the street.

Dozens of Alexandrians were gathered, gaping at her, not in admiration, but in horror. Mothers were covering their children's eyes, men's skin tinged green with disgust.

Daryl turned back around to her. She was their champion, and they were staring at her like she was the beast. The disbelief shone in her eyes, and they flitted over to him, looking for reassurance.

He quickly strode over the bodies in the street to her side, his arm immediately encircling her shoulder, both to comfort and protect her. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, both from exertion and from panic. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from her audience.

"Oh my god…" an elderly woman said. That was all it took to start the rain of words.

"Psycho!" someone screamed.

"Fucking crazy bitch!"

"You're insane!"

"Freak!"

"She's crazy!"

Star flinched at each harsh word, and Daryl pulled her closer into him with each insult.

"Let's go," he whispered to her, trying to pull her away, but she seemed rooted to the spot.

"Get out!"

"You can't live here!"

"Messed up bitch!"

"Star, c'mon!" Daryl insisted, pulling her with more force, his arm tightly wrapped around her. She stepped slightly to the side, and it was enough momentum for him to get them moving. They had taken only a few steps when a male voice called out, "Rylynn!"

Out of habit, Star paused and turned. The rock came sailing towards them, and Daryl instinctually pulled his arm over her head and forced them both to duck to the ground. He waited for the sound of it striking the pavement, but instead heard a _crunch_ and Star's pained cry.

Without rising, he looped an arm under her knees and picked her up, sprinting towards her old house, chased by the sound of additional rocks colliding with concrete behind him. He burst through the front door with sheer force and shut it with his back.

"What the hell?!" Rick jumped to his feet from the mattress, where the hysterical townswoman was resting. Star was cradled in Daryl's arms, blood caking her running shoe on one foot. "What happened?"

Daryl's jaw was clenched in rage, and he wordlessly tossed the keys to the Highlander to Rick, snatching the keys to the Jeep in the same movement and making for the garage.

"Star?" he asked the woman in his arms, trying to control the anger in his voice.

"I'm fine," she hissed through clenched teeth. "It's totally fine. Put me down."

He ignored her, and instead opened the passenger door of the jeep and set her down on the seat.

"How's it look?" she asked, eyes squeezed shut. He quickly glanced at her leg. The rock's jagged edges had marred up her ankle and shin, peeling layers of skin off, but his biggest concern was the expose bone and the crack visible in it.

"Don't look," he advised.

"Oh fucking great," she groaned as he jumped into the driver's seat and started the car. Rick was right alongside them, already having opened the garage door, and was revving the Highlander. The two vehicles peeled out of the garage and roared down the block, flying past the angry mob and rolling over the bodies of the slain walkers. They whipped down the block and sailed into the family home's driveway. Daryl launched himself from the jeep, pulling Star from the passenger seat. She was still curled around her injured leg, tears streaming down her face as she insisted, "I can walk".

"Like hell ya can," Daryl responded. Carol was standing at the open front door, investigating the sound of two vehicles screeching their way to the house. She took in the sight of a pained Star, a livid Daryl, and a confused but rushed Rick.

"What on Earth happened?!" she asked, alarmed, as she led the way into the living room. She grabbed a sheet from the clean pile on the stairs and spread it quickly across the couch before Daryl set Star on it. "Shit!" she yelped as she took in Star's injury.

"Is she bit?!" Rick demanded, charging into the house.

"What's going on?!" Carl hollered, taking the stairs two at a time on his way from the second floor with Maggie hot on his heels. .

"Fucking Christ," Michonne murmured as she entered from the backyard. "Someone go get a doctor."

"We killed the doctor, remember?" Maggie responded.

"We need to clean out the cuts," Rick directed, some of his CPR training from police academy kicking in. "We'll have to assess if any need stitches. Then, we'll have to bind and immobilize her leg."

"Immobilize it?!" Star snapped from the couch. "Holy shit, is my leg fucking broken?!"

"Shit, Star, what happened?" Maggie questioned as she examined the injury closely.

"Everyone, calm down!" Michonne ordered loudly. "This isn't doing any good! Carl, go get that kit from the upstairs bathroom. It has bandages and antiseptic wipes in it."

"There's a sewing kit I was using as a prop next to my bed," Carol remembered, rushing upstairs with the young boy.

"That string won't be thick enough," Maggie mused, remembering some of the lesson from her father's clinic.

"Use...floss…" Star gritted, rocking her head back and forth to try and focus. "It's sterile and doesn't break."

"Carl! Bring the floss!" Rick shouted up to the second story.

"Leg brace…in the Jeep. Med kit. Under the back seat," Star told them. Rick bolted for the garage he had just left. Michonne kneeled down next to Star, gripping her hand. Maggie sat on the arm of the couch, her hand firmly gripping Star's shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Michonne soothed her, knowing the young woman was no-nonsense. She looked up to Daryl, hoping for some back-up. Instead, she found him white-faced, with clenched fists and rage shaking his body.

"Daryl!" she snapped at him. He dropped his glare down to her.

Carl, Carol and Rick came rushing back all at the same time, their items in hand. Carol knelt at the woman's injured leg, grimacing slightly but taking deep, calming breaths. She began to clean the wound carefully, Star's core seizing up as she tried to keep still and absorb the pain.

"What the hell happened out there?" Maggie demanded of Daryl.

"She wasn't bit, was she?" Rick added.

Daryl merely shook his head in response, the tension in his body unwavering.

_No good idiot. Why didn't ya kill that last walker? None of this woulda' happened. _

"What happened?" Rick said more forcefully, standing directly across from his brother and staring him down.

_What happened? What happened? Ya failed 'er, ya piece of trash. _

"We…killed the walkers. Last one was hers," Daryl managed to spit out. "Didn't kill it right away, kinda hacked it up first. Wasn't dangerous. Fucking… people heard that bitch screaming, came t' see. Called her a freak. Some fucker threw a rock…"

…_and ya ducked 'er down, like the stupid, useless, mindless fucker ya are. Yer th' one who made 'er stop. It's yer fault. She woulda run, but ya stopped 'er and ya kept 'er there. She must HATE YOU. _

He suddenly turned and threw a punch at the wall.

"Daryl!" Carl shouted from his perch on the stairs.

"I'll fuckin' kill 'em!" Daryl hollered.

_Why don't ya kill yerself? Do 'em all a big ol' favor. 'Fore ya get someone else maimed. _

"Daryl, knock it off!" Carol snapped from her work. "I can't focus with you doing that!"

"Shut up!" Daryl snarled at her.

Star was suddenly up and off the couch, her mauled leg suspended slightly off the ground.

"Whoa, Star, sit down," Rick rushed to her side, but she held up a calm hand. Daryl was pressing his head into the wall, hisses of anger and frustration bouncing off the barrier and filling the room. Star used the railing of the stairs and the other walls to push herself forward with her hands, finally reaching him. She rested her hands calmly across his back.

He felt the pressure on his side and shoulder, and immediately recognized it from the many other times. Her handprint was becoming recognizable to him by touch. He lifted his face from the stucco and turned to see her upright, her face wet with tears and streaked with her own blood, but her eyes calm.

"Star, ya can't…" he panicked, but her eyes effectively silence him.

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do," she reminded him firmly. "This is not your fault."

He stared at her, wordless.

"It's not your fault," she repeated. He swallowed thickly, and she brought her hand up to cradle his face.

A miniscule corner of his mind sounded. _E'ryone's watchin'. _The rest of his raging mind was suddenly quieted.

"It's not your fault." She said again. He leaned his face into her palm, trying to absorb everything she was saying. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest, feeling her heart beat against his.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed quietly into her ear. She wrapped her arm around his waist.

"Nothing to be sorry for," she told him softly. "You tried to protect me. You tried to pull me away. Thank you."

He buried his face deep into the crook of her neck, taking a deep breath and trying to pull himself together. He bent his knees and picked her up off the ground, bringing her back to the couch. He was aware of everyone's eyes on them, and probably more specifically him, but there would be another time to address that. For now, he was only focused on Star.

Carol began her treatment again, occasionally apologizing for the pain when Star flinched or sucked air through her teeth in pain. Daryl never moved from her side, not holding her, but leaning into her whenever she pressed back against him.

Rick watched the scene with interest. He had never seen Daryl act out so passionately, or seen anyone calm him down so effectively. And now their bond was out in the open.

Watching Daryl keep close attention to Star's every move, with tenderness and protectiveness radiating from him, Rick began to fear for the peace in Alexandria.

_The townspeople have clearly turned against her, _he reflected. _And Daryl very well might kill them for this. _


	24. We Match

**Thank you all for the continued readership! Things are really getting tense in Alexandria; is the group going to be forced to make a decision earlier than they were expecting?**

**The last two chapters didn't get any reviews so far **** Please give me any feedback you can, even if it's critical! Your reactions and responses held me mold the direction of the story, and I really appreciate it. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

"Rick, I really am not equipped to do this," Carol noted from her position above Star's wound. "Stitching over a chipped bone…I'm not sure how that works."

Star was leaning against Daryl's chest, taking deep breaths as Carol cleaned out her leg with stinging antiseptic. Upon hearing Carol's concerns, she hauled herself up to a sitting position.

"Here, I'll do it," she stated matter-of-factly, taking the needle and makeshift thread out of the older woman's hands before Carol had time to process what was happening.

"You serious?" Michonne gapped at the woman.

"I've done it before," Star mumbled, slightly annoyed at how much of a fuss everyone was making over her.

"You've stitched over a leg bone before?" Maggie asked dubiously. She flinched as Star began to re-arrange the jagged edges of her skin back together.

"Well, no, not technically a leg bone. It was a head wound," Star explained. "Carl, will you hand me those tweezers from the kit?"

Carl handed her the tool, watching her in fascination. She took a deep breath and leaned across her own body to bring the tweezers to the exposed bone.

"Oh God," Maggie said, turning away. Sure, she had seen her share of medical procedures at the farm, but those had been putting animals down with chemicals, and assisting with births or shallow scrapes. None of them had concerned observing a self-surgery.

Daryl grabbed Star's wrist, alarmed. "Ya want me t' do that?"

She paused and turned to give him an amused look. "Do you know how to extract bone fragments?"

"Ya just take it out, don't ya?"

"You can't touch the sides of the wound; there are still live nerve endings there. I can anticipate when I'm going to flinch or move better, so it makes more sense this way."

Daryl nodded and scooted back from her, so as not to jostle her. She took another deep breath and returned to the best position for the procedure. Her hands were shaking mildly from the remaining adrenaline in her system, as well as the added pressure of having every set of eyes in the room on her work. But she carefully, steadily lowered the tool through the deepest gash and plucked a tiny fragment of bone with the forceps. She slowly brought it back out and dropped the tweezers and remnant onto a towel at her side, letting out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Nice," Carol commended. Star smiled in response, but was still focused on her task. She took the needle and "thread" and, without hesitation, made the first pierce in her skin at the top of the wound, grimacing slightly.

"I volunteered in Syria for a year between my undergraduate and Master's programs," Star informed them. "With Doctors Without Borders. Mostly I was there to do PTSD counseling with refugees, but sometimes the medical doctors needed assistance when too many patients were brought in. So I learned a lot of basic wound care."

"Basic?" Rick muttered.

Star looked up at the constable. "In a war zone, open wounds and chipped bones are basic."

"Is that where you stitched up someone's head?" Carl asked, fascinated by her story.

"No," Star said simply, and finished the knot to keep the stitches in place. "There." She sat all the way up and lowered her foot to the ground, testing the strength of the thread. She looked up and around at the group. "Now, what the hell are we going to do about the mob outside?"

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Michonne went out and called back every member of the family. Daryl suggested getting Eric and Aaron, but Star objected, feeling that it was better to have a set plan of action before bringing their friends into the fray. By evening, the entire family was gathered back in the kitchen.

Daryl, Carol and Rick had tried to get Star to wear the leg brace, but she simply scoffed at them and hopped into the kitchen on her own, informing them that her leg was not fractured and not broken, so the brace would only serve to annoy her. Glenn stood when she bounced into the kitchen, offering his seat to her, but she waved him off and made her way to the counter, supporting most of her weight on her hands.

"We were hoping to have longer to consider our options, and gather more intel," Rick addressed the group. "But unfortunately, today's events have shown otherwise. Several more walkers made their way inside this afternoon."

Concerned looks were exchanged across the room. Glenn pulled Maggie closer to him, looking to her for confirmation. She sadly nodded.

"How is that possible?" Tara asked. "Aren't we patrolling the walls?"

"We are," Michonne responded. "But there are several weak spots along the joints, where they are pushing through. The walls are soundproof, so it's hard to hear them until it's too late."

"Increase the numbers on patrol," Abraham instructed. "Cover more ground at once. And it's time we get these townies involved. Give 'em weapons; put 'em on watch, too. The more the better."

"That's our other issue," Rick said, scrubbing his hand over his eyes. "The townspeople might be less capable of change than we thought."

More confused and alarmed looks were thrown across the room.

"Several walkers got in and chased a woman," Rick continued over murmurs of "What?" "Star, Daryl and myself went to take care of them. The townspeople came out to see the commotion and witnessed Star…well…"

"I was dismembering a biter," Star stepped in. "I've been practicing with a new weapon, and I wanted to work with a moving target. It was the last one left; Daryl and I quickly killed all the prior ones."

"Townsfolk didn't like it," Daryl added. "They attacked us."

A collective, stunned gasp went up, accented by Abraham's "What the fuck?"

"These people," Rick continued over the noise, "turned into a mob. They threw stones at Daryl and Star, and struck her in the leg. This has led us to believe that they will not be receptive to the idea of killing walkers themselves."

The family gathered sat in silence, absorbing this new piece of information.

"What does this mean, exactly?" Carol asked their leader.

"It means armin' these folks is out of th' question," Daryl said firmly. "They do that to us with rocks, I don't mean to find out wha' they'll do with a gun."

"Some people weren't there, though," Star interjected. "I didn't see Aaron or Eric there." She looked to Daryl for back-up.

"Jessie and her kids wasn't there, and Deanna, neither," Daryl added.

"Star, did you see exactly who threw the rock?" Glenn asked. Star nervously chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"Yes," she admitted. "But we aren't concerned about one person; it's the mob mentality we have to worry about."

"We could make an example of them," Carol suggested. "Who was it?"

Star grew tenser. "Look, I don't think fear mongering is the best solution to this. We should bring Deanna into this discussion."

"Deanna has clearly lost her control over her people," Rick argued.

Abraham banged his fist on the dining table, making Eugene and Rosa jump. "Dammit, people, focus! What are our options here, and let's pick one and be done with it!"

"We stay here and stay away from those people," Rick said decisively.

"For how long?" Maggie challenged. "We can't do that forever! Plus the walkers will still get in!"

"There's something there," Carol noted. "We could keep our distance and let the walkers pick them off."

"Seriously?!" Glenn jumped in. "That's what this has come to?!"

"We take this place by force, and keep anyone who will learn to fight and arm 'em, and turn the rest out," Abraham volunteered.

"They'll jus' lie and turn on us later," Daryl foresaw. He took a step closer to Star and looked at her balancing on her good leg. "I ain't givin' none of 'em guns."

Everyone went silent, thinking about the best course of action.

"Or," Carl said quietly from his post at the doorway, cradling his sister in his arms, "we could leave."

All heads turned to their young member. Star gave him a small smile and nodded. "Sadelia."

Carl nodded back. "Sadelia."

Rick shook his head. "No. Months on the road in the dead of winter, heading towards something we don't even know is safe? We were considering that option only with months of stocking up and planning. No."

Michonne was sitting on top of the counter, wiping her katana blade over the sink. "This place is a powder keg, Rick. If we are talking about options, we should consider them all."

"You wanted this place!" Rick shot at his deputy. "You all begged me to consider it, and now you want to leave again?! To go back on the road again?! We almost died out there! No. We have walls here, we have weapons, we have food. We just have to decide what to do with the others."

"Rick, "Star spoke up, her voice quieter than usual. "We're not murderers. We're killers, but not murderers."

"It's us or them," Rick insisted. He pointed at her fresh stitches. "You think that's all they will do to you?"

She met his gaze defiantly. "They can do whatever they want to me. They can scar up both my legs. But I'm not going to murder them."

Rick realized the strength of her absolution. He turned to Daryl instead. "Next time she steps outside, she's a target. They aren't going to let this go. Are you going to let them get her again?"

Daryl glanced over at her. She, and all the other people in this room, were his family. He hadn't been able to protect them before, and he owed Rick for still calling him brother. He wasn't going to fail again.

"No," he resolved.

"It's her or them. You can't protect both," Rick insisted. "Which one are you going to pick?"

"Her," Daryl responded immediately. Star's long arm shot out and pushed him behind her as she hobbled between the two men.

"Rick, don't you dare play that against him," she snapped. "This does not have to be an 'us versus them' issue. I did not stand by and let them paint you and yours as monsters, and I sure as hell am not going to let you do the same. There has to be a better solution to this!"

But Rick was lost to reason. He had seen the end of civilization too many times to ignore when it was approaching again. "Glenn, will you stand by while they do this to Maggie? If Michonne kills a walker in these walls, is she going to be stoned next? We can't go outside right now because we may be killed for protecting them!"

The front door suddenly slammed, cutting off Rick's speech. Every person suddenly had a weapon in their hands and was out of their seat, ready to spring into action. Daryl extended his arm as he turned to bring Star behind his body, but found only empty air. He briefly turned his head from the door to look for her, only to find empty space. He lowered his knife and approached the front door, pulling to open to find Star's receding figure making its way down the street.

He sprinted out of the house and down the sidewalk, constantly checking his surroundings. He finally caught up with her and wrapped his hand around her bicep.

"What are ya' doin'?" he whispered to her. She stopped and turned a steely gaze to him.

"I'm going to resolve this," she informed him. "We can't do any good by hiding and making them into monsters!"

"Star, they threw a damn rock at ya," Daryl insisted. "Ya really think ya can just go to Deanna's an' talk this out?"

She hesitated, swaying back and forth on her good leg as she held the other slightly off the ground. "I don't know, Daryl," she admitted. "But I can't deal in hypotheticals. I intend to find out for sure."

"Jessie came by yesterday," he told her. "T' see Rick. Told 'im that me an' ya should stay out of all this. We're causin' too much trouble."

"Why?" she challenged.

He looked around the dark town cautiously. "Come back inside, an' we can talk this out there. If ya still want t' go in the mornin', I won't stop ya'."

She relented, and followed him back into the family home. He closed the front door and secured it behind them, leading them back to the kitchen, where the rest of the group was occupied with small discussions. They all went silent when the two walked in. Star sat down, defeated, at an empty chair.

"I don't understand this. I was on perfectly good terms with all of these people, and I can't figure out what changed," she sighed. "I was their therapist and their runner, and suddenly I'm…some kind of…I don't know! What happened?"

"Again, who cares?!" Abraham insisted. "We section ourselves off, let the hoards take care of the weak ones, and figure out what to do with the ones left. That's my vote."

Michonne turned her attention to Rick. "Is this still a democracy?" she asked, a hint of iciness in her tone. He nodded after a moment.

"Then we vote. We have Abraham's option: option one. Option two: We give them a choice to join us or not, and train and arm the ones who join us. Option three: we take over by force."

"None of these choices let these people all live," Star added bitterly. "They may be naïve and scared, but they aren't all bad."

"And if we stay, the bad among them may _kill us_," Rick argued with her.

"That's enough, you two," Carol interjected. "All in favor of sectioning off, option one?"

Abraham raised his hand with certainty. Rosa and Eugene hesitantly followed their old leader's example.

"Option two, letting them choose to join us?"

Michonne, Tara, and Star's hands shot into the air. Star shot an exasperated look at Daryl, who crossed his arms over his chest.

"Option three, taking Alexandria by force?"

Rick, Carol and Sasha resolutely cast their votes in favor of the last option. Michonne turned her gaze to the kitchen entryway, where Daryl and Carl were leaning against the door frame.

"You two didn't vote," she noted.

"Because we forgot an option," Carl told her. "Leave for Sadelia." He boldly raised his hand, and Daryl lifted his arm in support.

Star still shook her head. "If we leave, we sentence this entire town to death."

"We aren't even close to being prepared for a winter on the road," Eugene supplied.

"Regardless, that had the smallest amount of votes, so it's cut," Michonne powered through. "Carl and Daryl, vote again."

"Give them a choice and train them," Carl immediately responded. Star let out a quiet breath; there was still hope for the young boy.

"Same," Daryl responded.

"Daryl?" Rick questioned incredulously.

"It worked at the prison," the hunter reasoned.

"That means taking this place by force is out," Michonne concluded.

"Then I vote for sectioning off," Carol returned. Rick nodded in agreement.

Sasha looked around in the crowded room. The final, deciding vote rested with her.

"I don't like the idea about giving weapons and training to folks who turn might turn against us," she prefaced. "But splitting the town and letting walkers clean house sounds like a great way to get another herd invading. So I vote we give them the choice."

The tense silence was shattered by Rick slamming his fist down on the counter top. "What?!"

All eyes jumped from Sasha to the leader's outburst.

"This will cost us lives!" Rick bellowed. "You've all gambled with the lives of your own!"

"Rick," Michonne warned.

"No! We have survived this long by taking what we need and looking out for our own. We owe them _nothing_! They give us _nothing_! You want to see what acting civil will get you in this world? I hope you're all ready to dig our graves!"

With that, Rick stormed from the house.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The group gradually dispersed, their next course of action controversial but ultimately decided. Daryl helped Star up the stairs to the bedroom, where she dropped to the mattress on the floor wordlessly. He pulled off his boots and socks, and crouched down to sprawl next to her. They laid next to each other silently, mulling over the day's events and revelations.

"What're we gonna do?" Daryl quietly asked his companion. She rolled over onto her side so she was facing him, shrugging with one arm as she propped herself up on the other. She brought her hands to his hair and ran her fingers slowly across his scalp. He relaxed into her touch, and his eyes slid shut.

Almost inaudibly, she whispered into the dark night.

_And I'm afraid, to sleep because of what haunts me_

_Such as living with the uncertainty_

_That'll never find the words to say_

_Which would completely explain, just how I'm breaking down_

_Someone come and, someone come and save my life_

_Maybe I'll sleep when I am dead but now it's like the night is taking sides_

_And all the worries that occupy the back of my mind_

_Could it be, this misery will suffice. _

He heard the fear and the turmoil in her words, and wrapped a protective arms around her, pulling her to his chest. She wrapped her arms up and around his torso, eliminating as much space between them as the laws of physics would allow.

"Trade?" she whispered to him.

"Trade," he responded, taking comfort in the routine.

"Tell me something certain, and I'll tell you something that's for sure."

He didn't have to try too hard to find his contribution. "No one will ever hurt ya' again."

Her smile against his chest was all the comfort he needed, but she gave a second piece. "I'll never let you get another scar."

He stared down at her, her hair and skin glowing in the steams of moonlight that managed to get through the gaps in the curtains. He had never been certain of anything in his entire life, so he could only assume that the confidence and comfort surging through him when she was with him equated certainty. And it was that certainty that drove him to trust her unequivocally, absolutely, even if it was against every lesson he had ever learned in life.

"Different trade," he requested. She sat upright and crossed her legs underneath her, her arm still laying across his waist.

"Okay," she agreed.

"Tell me a memory about yer father. Adam," he corrected himself. He had noticed that she called her parents by their names.

She looked up at the ceiling, trying to select a memory. "Hmm…" she muttered as she intertwined their hands, absentmindedly tracing the veins under his skin. "When I was ten years old, I got in trouble at school for fighting with another student. She had been teasing me about my lunches. They were always mostly vegetables from our garden, and bread that Jade made by hand. I got tired of hearing it every day, and one afternoon, I snapped and kicked her under the table, really, _really_ hard. Got sent to the principal's office and everything. Adam wasn't happy about it; my parents were big proponents of nonviolence. When I got home, Adam sat me down and had me practice a whole bunch of nonviolent ways to respond to the teasing. Negotiations, ignoring them, justifying my food with research, explaining the economic benefits…pretty much every tactic in the book. I went to lunch at school the next day with an arsenal of nonviolent responses, and I was so excited to try them out. Sure enough, the other girl started up her usual insults, and I tried every single one of Adam's ideas, to no avail. She just kept going! We hadn't taken into account that she had no good reason to bully me; we assumed there was a logical goal behind it, and that it could be conquered with information. I went home that day, and told Adam that he might want to try to think up nonviolent solutions specifically with emotionally-driven, ten-year-old girls in mind."

She laughed quietly at the memory. "He never did find any that worked. He told me that that's why the universe doesn't allow anyone to remain ten and irrational forever; the universe always had a reason for working the way it did, in his eyes."

She stopped tracing his hand to meet his eyes. "Your turn, Angel. Would you like to share a memory of your father?" she kept her tone light, but her eyes showed more concern. She knew his family was a bit of a tense topic, but he had selected their fathers as a subject. She assumed there was a reason behind that.

Instead of speaking, he held the hem of his shirt in both hands and hauled it up and over his head, leaving his torso bare. She subconsciously licked her lips.

"I'll take that as a subject change?" she joked, drawing a finger down the planes of his stomach. He caught her straying hand by the wrist and stilled her. She gave him a perplexed look, which turned into a dawn of realization when he turned around, his back facing her.

The dark slices jumped off his skin in the white moonlight, impossible to ignore now that they were staring her in the face. She felt a mix of blazing anger, immense sadness, and growing possessiveness wash through her as she took them in. Slowly, she raised the finger that had been on his stomach and lightly touched it across each line.

She could see his tenseness in the rigid stance he was holding, the breath he seemed to be holding captivate. She knew how much courage and faith he had to muster to show them to her, so she lowered her lips to each severe line and tenderly placed kisses along their paths.

He turned back around to face her, and took her smaller hand in his palm, eyes cast downwards.

"Only two other people've seen those," he quietly told her. "Jus' my brother. And my old man. He put 'em there."

She stared unwavering at his face.

"It was my own fault, I suppose," he continued. "Didn't do something right, or fast enough. He always had this belt near 'im, or on 'im. At first it was Merle who got it…an' then Merle left, an' it was jus' me to hit on. Most times, it didn't scar. But a few times…it did. But it always burned for day after."

Watching him tell her the story broke her heart, and enraged her, too.

"I hate him," she whispered. He looked up to meet her gaze. "I hate him, and I don't care that I don't know him, and I don't give a shit if he had a million other redeeming qualities, and I don't care that I was raised not to hate!" Fire was leaping from her eyes, and her hand was crushing his.

"I hate him," she repeated venomously, and his lips were suddenly crushing into hers, his hands buffering her fall as she collapsed backwards under his weight. Her mouth moved deeply and sweetly against his, engulfing him in passion.

They broke apart, with Daryl still hovering above her. She could tell that the marks and memories still disturbed him, so she scrambled for a positive spin on them.

"We match," she suddenly blurted out. He squinted at her in confusion, and she sat up and into him, forcing him to rock back into a seated position. She stuck out her injured leg, which he had been careful to avoid, and pointed to the stitches.

"The universe always has a reason for working out the way it does," she reiterated. "We both got scars trying to be a part of a family that we thought loved us. And our scars prove that it's not really love, that those people aren't our family."

He smiled at her and kissed her soundly, swirling his tongue across her lips.

_We match. _


	25. Incoming Tide

**Hi readers! **

**First off, please allow me to apologize for the long absence. I have joined a US police academy since the posting of my last chapter, which consumes the life of a cadet. Seriously. Like 19/20 days, 10 hours a day MINIMUM are spent at the academy, not to mention homework and additional training, as well as department interviews. It's, in essence, insanity. **

**In addition to this, I am planning my wedding, which is coming up in less than 7 months now, and we are buying a new home in another town to be closer to work. **

**SO, that is my excuse for not updating as frequently as I had been at first. Every of the three spare minutes I have in a day have been spent kicking myself for not writing more. So, here is my attempt at tying ya'll over until I graduate in mid-December. **

**Thank you for your patience and thank you for your continued support. As always, onwards and upwards!**

A soft knock jolted Star out of a deep, dreamless sleep. She groggily blinked the blur from her eyes, but her arm immediately shot out to the spear laying to the left of the mattress.

The bedroom door cracked open, and short auburn hair appeared in the gap.

"Oh, Maggie," Star sighed, dropping her weapon back to the floor. "Hi. Come on in."

"Sorry to wake you," Maggie said from the doorway. "There's a meeting at Deanna's in five minutes."

Star was on her feet already, pulling off her pajamas in the corner as Maggie turned her gaze away.

"About last night?" she asked.

"No, something Rick found out in the woods," Maggie responded. "Don't know what yet."

Star nodded in acknowledgement as she got her long-sleeved, black running shirt over her head, adjusted her tan BDUs, and kicked on her running shoes. She looked down at the bed, and the missing entity suddenly came to her.

"Daryl's already there," Maggie noted, reading her mind. "He was up earlier, helping Rick with the bodies."

Star nodded again. "Thanks for waking me up," she said as she passed through the door. Her leg protested against her sudden movement, and she gasped slightly as the pain hit her.

"Here," Maggie insisted, handing Star a pile of pills, a full water bottle, and a peanut butter sandwich.

"Man, you are on it," Star admired as she heavily limped down the staircase, Maggie lingering at her side.

"Didn't get much sleep, so I've had some time to get things together," Maggie noted.

The two women exited the house, crossed the street, and made their way down the block in silence, each still reeling from the previous two days' events, and mentally preparing for what the world was going to throw at them next.

"They're from another community," a young man with dreads and glassed informed a very sweaty Rick as Maggie and Star entered the living room filled with community members. "There were only a few of them stuck in there then. The sounds must have drawn more."

Star saw Daryl leaning on a wall of the room, closest to Rick. She quietly crossed the room as the young man continued to fell Rick in on the demographic of this issue. Daryl turned to nod at her as took her place to his right.

"What's going on?" she whispered.

"Big herd stuck in a quarry. Seems like they from other communities, or was," Daryl quietly filled her in.

"The big rigs there are about to fall off the ledges, any day now," Rick told the community. "If they get out, they'll be coming straight at us."

"Jesus Christ," Star muttered under her breath. Daryl looked at her sideways, swaying slightly as she balanced off of her injured leg. He straightened up from the wall and extended his arm to her subtly. She leaned slightly against him, trying to be careful not to draw too much attention from the issue at hand.

"So what do we do?" an Alexandrian Star recognized as Betsy's husband asked.

"I'm thinking we draw them away," Rick recommended. "Use the supplies for the wall extension and set up borders to control their movement. Use some cars as bait, and draw them away from the town. Let the herd wander away and keep going."

A dead silence hung in the air. Rick's group seemed to accept the plan right off the bat, all nodding or looking like they were chewing over the tactics. The Alexandrians, however, seemed alarmed and bewildered.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Barry finally spoke. "Just unleashing a herd and hoping we can control them?"

Star felt herself caught between the two theories of thought again. She agreed that an entire quarry filled with a herd posed a huge threat to the community, especially with the already tumultuous tension within the walls. However, releasing that many and trying to control the mindless undead seemed far-fetched.

"We do what Rick says," Deanna said, staring out a window with her back to the gathering.

Rick launched off of her affirmation before anyone else had a chance to undermine the call. "We start building the barriers today. Set up checkpoints and establish teams. A few of my group will remain to keep the town defended. Maggie, Carol, Tara, Eugene, you'll remain here. Deanna, select a few members to remain behind that are good with weapons. The rest of us are out in an hour."

The group dispersed to their respective jobs. Daryl turned to Star. "Ya should stay here," he told her, indicating to her leg.

She scoffed at him and began to limp towards the front door. "Not a chance, Daryl. I'm not sitting around while everyone else does the work."

She got onto the front porch before he managed to shoulder his way past some stragglers and maneuver himself in her way. 'Star…" he growled in a low warning.

"Daryl…" she responded in kind.

"Ya can barely walk," he argued. "Ya won't be any help out there."

She kept trudging her way back to the group home. "Last I checked, you don't need to be able to run to dig some holes."

"I ain't messin'…" Daryl started in, but Star cut him off by grabbing his arm and pulling him into her. She firmly pressed her lips against his, cutting off his protests. His arm went rigid but his head tilted slightly to deepen the kiss.

She pulled away after a few seconds, and steadily held his surprised gaze. "Daryl, I am going. Deanna will be here to keep the peace, but the townspeople still aren't set on following Rick. We need a mediator out there. I'm still the closest we have. But I hear what you're saying. I need your help."

Daryl's brain was still buzzing from the intimate embrace out in the open, but he was able to gather the generalities of her statement. She wasn't backing down, and she was going to help with the herd.

"Fine," he relented. "But ya stay with me."

"Deal," she agreed.

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The group re-convened at the quarry at mid-morning. Star gaped at the sight before them from the back of Daryl's motorcycle.

"Holy shit," Daryl agreed quietly.

At least 300 of the walking dead were mulling around in the cavernous hole. They thoughtlessly bounced off each other and collided with the crumbling walls. Four semi-trucks had been parked to block the ramps out of the ditch, but Star could see where Rick's concern was: one of the trucks was balanced precariously on the decaying edge of the ramp, and if it fell, it left a significant path for the biters to stream from the pit.

Rick laid out a map on the hood of one of the vehicles, and began strategizing with Abraham, Glenn, and Betsy's husband. Daryl and Star dismounted the bike, and Daryl began to listen in on the discussion. Star approached the trucks loaded with fencing supplies and scanned the haul.

"Think we'll have enough to pull this off?" she asked Michonne, who was doing the same.

Michonne shrugged. "The wall doesn't really matter. I'm more worried about the biters following the bait."

"Ok, guys, here's the plan!" Rick called them all in. He briefed them all on the plan and the route, as well as everyone's role at each stage. Star was grateful that her injury had not impacted the tasks assigned to her; Rick instructed her to build the fence along with everyone else.

Several hours were spent digging out the posts along the marked intersections, setting up a 12-foot wall in the path to direct the flow of the walkers once they were uncaged. It reminded Star a little of reinforcements to rivers to control the path of the current. Some of the larger vehicles were retrieved from the town to use as longer sections of the straights, and a few of the people who remained in town came out with the vehicles with water and food.

"Thank Carol," Star smiled, as the older woman handed down a refilled water bottle. "Appreciate it."

"Well we appreciate you being out here in the hot sun, digging all day," Carol chirped. Star almost laughed. Now that she had seen the no-nonsense, aggressive side of Carol, the "den mother" charade was comical. She understood the tactical use of the personality, but it made the flowered print shirts and cookies even more hilarious.

"My pleasure ma'am," she farced back, and Carol gave her a half-second of a playful glare. She placed another water bottle and a bag of applies and carrots next to Star.

"Get that to Daryl, see if he'll eat," Carol told her. Star saluted, adding, "yes, ma'am." She gathered up the items and made her way around the holes and mounds of dirt to where Daryl was lifting posts into the completed holes with Rick.

"Break time, guys?" she asked. Daryl paused but Rick picked up another beam from the pile.

"Guys, break time," she stated decisively and loudly. Daryl shot a glance in Rick's direction, and Rick gave her an irritated look but dropped the end of the post. Star walked past them and sat down in the shade of the nearby woods.

"Careful," Daryl cautioned her as he plopped down to the ground next to her. "Rick's not in th' mood."

"Rick's about to collapse," Star observed. "That won't do anyone any good."

Daryl didn't respond as she handed him one of the water bottles. He chugged down three quarters of the bottle and laid back in the cool soil.

"How's th' leg?" he inquired.

"Fine," she responded. In truth, the low-dosage pain meds that Maggie had given her earlier were starting to wear off, and a low throb of pain was pulsing through her lower extremity. But she was determined not to let it show.

They sat in a strange silence. They felt at complete ease with each other, but the feeling of being on the edge of so many precipices was weighing down the autumn air. Star felt a slight weight and warmth right above her knee, and looked down to find Daryl's hand resting there. She smiled and wrapped her fingers around his hand.

"I guess it all came together nicely, despite all the shit hitting the fan," Star commented. Daryl gave her a questioning look.

She gestured around to the intermingling members of Alexandria and the family, helping each other move dirt piles and planning out sections. "We're all trying to work together. And we armed a few Alexandrians back there. Just like we planned."

Daryl looked around, and saw the same things she did.

"Guess so," he assessed.

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Just past noon, the fence had been erected successfully at the major intersection. The group decided to trek back to the quarry to check in on the status of the trucks and finalize a day to set their plan into action.

They got a guestimate of the number of walkers, and double-checked the map to ensure that all the fences were properly placed. The color-coded check points were all in place as well.

"Alright, folks, let's talk about who's doing what," Rick said. "I need one driver in one of the junkers. It'll make enough noise and is disposable, so that'll be one of the bait vehicles."

"I'll do it," Sasha immediately chimed in.

"I'll go with her," Abraham volunteered.

"Good," Rick approved. "Daryl, you'll be with them. Pick up any stragglers that start to fall away."

Daryl nodded.

"We'll need a team to take out one of the semi's," Rick continued. "Michonne, I want you t…"

His instructors were cut off as a loud, mechanical groan was heard. Every head swiveled to face the east end of the quarry, where the crumbling ledge of the ramp was falling in a storm of dust, taking the semi to the bottom of the rocky pit. Walkers immediately began to bump and push past the remaining semi on the ramp, leading to a slow but progressive shuffle to the open road.

"WE HAVE TO DO THIS NOW!" Rick roared. Sasha and Abraham made for the old green car closest to the group, and Daryl made a dash for the bike. Star took off with him, unsheathing her spear.

"Star go with them!' Daryl yelled at her.

"I won't be able to keep up! I'll keep them off your tail!" she hollered back, jumping onto the back of the bike and unsheathing her spear from the back holster. She wrapped one arm around Daryl's waist and kept the other loose at her waist, holding the spear parallel to the bike. Daryl pulled a long blade from a makeshift sheath on the handlebars as the bike roared to life and flew down the road. Sasha and Abraham pulled up next to them within a few hundred yards, and together the bait team made their way to the incoming tide of walkers.

**Thanks for all your patience and support! Reviews, as always, are welcomed and read over somewhat obsessively. **


	26. There You Have It

**Thanks for the reviews and follows! Those notifications always make my day. **

**I do apologize for the lengthy delay. Careers and drama and such. **

**As promised, academy is officially over! I am in the field and having a blast exploring this new part of my life. **

**Wedding planning will no longer be an issue, as I am newly single, so that opens up some time for some chapters. **

**Onwards and upwards!**

Daryl and Sasha flipped their vehicles around about 100 yards from the front of the walkers, Sasha blaring her car horn and Abraham smacking his knife against the metal door. Star took the opportunity to flip around on the back seat of the motorcycle, spear still in her right hand as she used her left to reach and keep a grip around Daryl's waist. Daryl reached his own left arm around her other side to steady her, using his right hand to steer.

"Go ahead and let go, I'm good," Star told him. He relented his hold on her waist and steadied both hands on the handlebars.

A deep, blaring horn suddenly cut through the sea of groaning behind them.

"What the fuck is that?!" Sasha asked, bewildered. Star was tempted to turn around and look for the source of the sound, but kept her eyes and spear trained on the rambling corpses.

"'s comin' from th' town," Daryl noted over the noise.

"What do we do?!" Sasha responded.

A tense silence followed, four minds measuring their responsibilities and risks.

Finally, Abraham spoke. "We stay," he said decisively.

"But what if they're being attacked?!' Sasha insisted. Star's mind immediately conjured up the booby-trapped grocery trucks and the walker underneath with the 'W" carved into her head, and she tightened her grip on Daryl's vest.

"We stay," Abraham said in the exact same tone. "We lose the herd, and they just add to the shitstorm."

The radio on Daryl's shoulder crackled to life, and Rick's voice emitted from the black box.

"I've sent Michonne and Glenn with the townsfolk to get back to Alexandria. I'm going to get the RV and head in. Do NOT abandon the plan. Going back would be for us, not for them."

The radio static cut out.

"There ya' have it," Abraham said, settling into the passenger seat.

Daryl turned around to look at Star. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, and she could sense his itch to go and aid the community. He was looking for support.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek and turned away from him.

"There you have it," she repeated. The horn inexplicably stopped.

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It only took five minutes for Daryl to get agitated.

"Man, we can't just sit here!" he finally snapped. Star shifted her eyes in his direction from the walker she had chosen as the front boundary.

"Daryl, don't go," Sasha reasoned. "You can make it there, but we won't be able to make it without you. We can't hold this herd on our own."

The two in the car watched Daryl as conflict flitted across his face. The radio on his chest crackled with static, but no information came through.

"Star, turn 'round," Daryl barked. Star tore her eyes from the front walker, but could hear the tension in Daryl's voice. She swung her legs around and faced forward, sheathing her spear in the back holster as she turned. Daryl revved the engine, and Star mouthed an apology as they roared away from the lone car.

They roared down the abandoned roads in silence. Star felt the same weight of their rock-and-a-hard-place, and was somewhat relieved that Daryl was driving, and therefore making the decisions. She wanted to say something, but could sense Daryl mentally battling himself. She wasn't the strongest voice of reason here; he was.

The radio on his shoulder buzzed to life. Static emptied into the dead air, with muffled pops cutting through. Star's eyes widened, and she turned to look at Daryl's profile.

"Rick…" she whispered. The static continued, but nothing interrupted it for several minutes. She could see the gears turning in her companion's head, and he finally gritted his teeth and cursed.

"Fuck it," he muttered as he accelerated into the upcoming turn. Star tightened her arm around his waist and raised an anticipatory hand to the handle of her spear.

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They roared towards the beat-up sedan, and Star could see Sasha let out a breath she probably had been holding since they had left. Abraham simply gave them a single head nod as Daryl turned the bike back to line up next to the car.

"Welcome back," he quipped. Neither of them responded.

"He'll be fine. He can hold his own," Star quietly comforted Daryl. He didn't respond, just kept his eyes trained on the road. She squeezed his waist and then carefully turned back around to resume her watch post, spear twirling in her hand.

About an hour passed, a mildly less tense silence settling between the occupants of the two vehicles. The moans of the undead had gradually become background noise, and Star found herself zoning out and dropping her head to Daryl's back, keeping her lazy eyes trained on the rambling corpses.

Star's head snapped back to attention when she heard Daryl mutter, "Try t' keep up," into the radio.

"Daryl, have you seen this car?" a static-covered Sasha quipped back. "Trust me, we want to get back just as much as you do."

Star let out a small sigh of relief as they hung a left onto HWY 642. _Home. Thank the deities. _

The highway crossed into a small stop town, with a mechanic's garage, gas station, and a few eateries. The two vehicles slowed down to navigate the debris and ensure the mob didn't lose them in the maze. Star was just about to ask Daryl how far out they were when a whizzing sound, followed by a very narrow burst of air, went flying past her head. She and Daryl instinctively ducked down, and the round went right past Sasha and Abraham.

"DOWN" Daryl barked at her as he gunned the bike to a higher speed, and Star ducked her head below his shoulders. It was a useless maneuver, she realized, as they sped by strange gunmen on either side of the road. She heard glass shatter as the junker behind them lost its back windshield. A round bounced off the handlebars of the bike, and Daryl yanked his hand away reactively. Star felt the machine beneath them begin to wobble, and she jumped off and rolled into the nearby shrubs, her spear in her hands in a split second. Star whipped her head back to see Daryl skidding under the bike along the pavement, the orange junker whizzing by him and narrowly missing the bike as an unfamiliar blue sedan gave pursuit.

Star crouched low against the dense foliage, spear cocked back behind her shoulder. She saw Daryl struggling to get to his feet.

"Daryl! GET UP!" she hissed at the man. A gunman down the road began advancing with a rifle, its sights trained on the downed motorcycle. Star snagged a small knife from inside the waist of her pants and gripped it loosely in her weak hand, aimed, and let it fly.

"FUCK OFF" she yelled as the man caught her knife in his lower gut and stumbled backwards. Daryl was back on his feet and laboriously lifted the bike to its wheels, slowly pushing it towards her. He remounted and got the machine going again, furiously gesturing at Star. She leapt up from her hiding spot and jumped back onto the bike again seated backwards. Wordlessly, she spun around and yanked Daryl's Glock from his hip holster.

"FUCKING GO!" she shouted at him, and he furiously urged the machine onwards as she fired sporadically at the two dusty vehicles chasing them. She felt the bike weaving around obstacles, only seeing them after they had passed. A walker flew by about two inches from her elbows, but she gritted her teeth and kept her eyes trained on their attackers. One of the vehicles dodged a hoard of walkers but smashed into a derelict bus, crumpling to a stop.

The motorcycle finally cleared town and found the open road, Daryl pumping on the gas and trying to ignore the metal clinking and grinding of the vehicle.

"Lose em?" he shouted back.

"One of them," Star answered as the blue SUV squealed sharply around the last shipping container.

"We'll lose 'em on a hill," Daryl promised.

The SUV came over the crest and roared past the thicket of trees without a pause. Daryl drove across the road after it, back into the cover of the forest. Star let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and immediately set her focus on assessing the damage.

The motorcycle didn't sound right, and she had no idea where they were on gas. Daryl's left sleeve was torn to shreds, as was his pant leg. The same side of his face was caked in blood and dirt. She reached around him to take a better look at the wound, but he shook her off. Her own right knee was exposed and already black and blue, but other than that, she felt fine.

She felt the bike lean to the side again, and felt the machine slow down. Daryl's usually steady and strong posture was slouched and shaky.

"Daryl…" she was about to command him to stop when he collapsed over the side of the bike and into the charred forest floor. Star launched from the heavy piece of machinery for the second time in an hour, landing clear of both her companion and the crushing weight of the bike.

"Daryl!" she scrambled back to him. She looped her arms under his and dragged him clear of the bike. He groaned and lifted his head up.

"Stay down," she ordered sternly. He obliged momentarily, but jerked back to attention when they both heard the throaty, nearby rasp of the dead. Star slowly turned to look over her right shoulder and came face-to-face with a melted, moving motorcycle helmet, attached to the molten body of a walker.

"Christ," she startled, and kicked the charred corpse away from them. Daryl slumped back down into her arms, pulling her to the ground as his eyes rolled back into his head.

Star looked around, bewildered and lost. She lowered herself down into a protective crouch over Daryl's unconscious body, spear at the ready.

_Damn it Damn it Damn it Damn it Damn it. _

Daryl saw black swimming before his eyes, and heard a slight human pant above him. He pulled his eyes open and blurred colors swam before his eyes. Black below the horizon, white above, and a tan blob in the center of it all. He blinked, and blinked again, and slowly the burnt forest floor, the blinding sky, and Star came back into focus. Star was squatting above him, her spear gripped alongside her forearm, eyes piercing the perimeter. She winced, shifting her weight to one side, and he saw her swollen knee and old tattered bandage come into focus.

He groaned and sat upright, and she turned to look at him.

"You ok now, Angel?" she quietly asked.

"Ya," he responded, getting to his feet. "We gotta get outta here."

"I'm with you all the way on that," she agreed, handing him his Glock to reholster. She gave him an incredulous look as he crossed back to the fallen bike. "Daryl it's useless in here. And it weighs a shit ton."

"We need it," he insisted.

"Then we'll come back for it," she stated, and began walking away. She stopped in her tracked and turned around to find him pulling the bike upright and pushing it with effort along the soft, sooty ground.

"Daryl, seriously!" she started to argue.

"Don't it look like 'm bein' serious?" he said without any change in his tone or volume. Star growled but backtracked to him and the hunk of metal, begrudgingly pushing on the opposite side.

They had been pushing and walking for about twenty minutes. Neither commented on the burnt tree stumps or the charred skeletons they dodged along the way. They had injuries and a broken vehicle and a hit squad to deal with; already dead, albeit creepy, things could wait.

Daryl tried the dented portable radio every few minutes with no response. Blood dripped steadily down his arm, and Star wanted to say something, but felt like Daryl needed her to just be there and get them both through this.

The bike's front tire found its way into a groove along the path, and stuck stubbornly. Daryl finally let it fall to the floor, and Star let the metal meet the dirt. Daryl tried to shrug out of his torn leather jacket, but the blood was sticking to the material. Star went behind him and softly guided the jacket past his shoulders and down his arms, Daryl hissing in pain. Her heart broke and her need to fix something, anything flared up, but she simply followed Daryl's lead.

"Bag attached t' th' bike" Daryl requested as he retrieved his crossbow from the handlebars. Star found the saddlebag and slung it around her weak shoulder, her spear still mounted the opposite direction. Daryl pulled some blackened branches over the bike, silently signaling defeat to the bike's cumbersome weight.

They hadn't taken more than five steps when the dull snap of a branch brought Daryl's crossbow up and Star's spear out of the holster. Daryl took slow, silent steps toward the sound, Star watching their tail. Without prompt, two young women popped up from the ashen foliage with their arms raised, hands up.

"Ok, here we are!" the brunette spoke to the sharp end of the crossbow. "We earned what we took."

Star's eyebrows furrowed, but she kept her spear trained on the blonde. "What are you talking about?"

Daryl whipped around suddenly, but quickly met the floor as a 2x4 collided with his head.

"The f…" Star got out, before she met the same percussion-based fate.

**Phew! That was quite the exercise, trying to get back into writer's shape. My apologies, again, for the prolonged absence and inevitable rustiness. I fully intend to continue working more regularly on this fic again. Like, regularly as in, I'll start on the next chapter right now. **

**As always, reviews are lovingly devoured.**


	27. Baby Knives and a Broken Pointy Stick

**Thank you all for the reviews, favorites and follows! I promised a prompt chapter, and I'm sorry that I let you down on that. But nevertheless, onwards and upwards!**

Star's vision field was all black with flashing white and icy blue bursts. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and the base of her skull was throbbing in time with the bright flashes.

_Open your eyes, dammit. _She chided herself. _Blind is a great way to get yourself killed. _

She tried to bring her hand up to rub the weight from her eyes, but the slightest lift brought tension across her wrists. _Shit, did I break my wrists too? Nice fucking job, Star! _She rotated her hands to assess the level of damage, but instead of a sharp pain, felt only pressure.

Her eyes snapped open at the same time as her brain snapped to attention. _Tied. I'm tied up. _

The white sunlight forced her to squint at her surroundings until they came into focus. Dirt. Forest. Small fire. Blurry shapes of strange humans. Slumped over, familiar human next to her. She blinked at that sight a few times until she recognized her bound companion, still unconscious, still bleeding.

She scooted over towards Daryl's figure, but in an instant, found one of the strange human shapes pointing the barrel of a gun at her forehead. She glared up at it until a scrawny, dirty, white man with shaggy blonde hair came into focus on the other end of the weapon.

"Wouldn't be makin' any stupid moves, ma'am," he quipped, his drawl reminding her faintly of Daryl's.

"He's hurt," Star protested.

"Sounds like a personal problem t' me."

Star's head was throbbing even more now, and she grimaced. "Why the hell did you hit us? What do you want?" She managed. _Information. Get him talking. _She saw a slight movement to her right, and saw Daryl's blue eyes peek out from under his eyelids.

"You were followin' us, n' we can't be havin' that."

"Following you? _We_ were being cha…" Her protests were slapped out of her mouth by the butt of the pistol whipping across her jaw. Everything went white again as her teeth instantly became coated in blood and her skull felt as if it had cracked along her ears.

The crack of wood on bone made a loud enough sound to jolt Daryl to full consciousness, because he was on his knees and launching himself at the man before Star could catch another breath. With his hands tied, he simply knocked the man to his back before the two girls, shouting and hollering, dragged Daryl off and threw him aside.

"Daryl STOP!" Star finally managed to spit out, spraying her own shirt and the ground with blood. The two girls stared at her in a mixture of fear and pity, but the brunette handed the man the pistol again nonetheless. The man quickly wiped away dirt from his face as he aimed the weapon at Daryl.

"Dwight, please," the younger girl with short blonde hair pleaded. "Maybe he won't tell them. Maybe they aren't with him."

Daryl looked over at Star for insight into this comment. She was blinking past a river of tears streaming down her cheeks, and painfully holding the left side of her jaw. She shrugged back at him.

"We ain't who you think," Daryl told the man standing above him. The two girls looked at each other, and the brunette cautiously knelt down to give water from a bottle to Daryl. The blonde crossed to Star and did the same. Star refused angrily; there was no way she was moving her jaw. The blonde shoved the bottle at her more forcefully.

"Drink it," she commanded. Star managed to dribble some down into her mouth, and let some of it fall out of the corner to wash out the sea of blood. The young girl gasped and backed away quickly from her at the sight.

"We ain't takin' the chance that they are," Dwight informed the two girls. "Bring em' with us."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" the brunette asked incredulously.

Dwight snorted at her concern. "Please. Th' chick only had baby knives and a pointy, broken stick on 'er. Won't be any trouble at all."

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They had been walking through the charred forest for about fifteen minutes, with the two girls up front and Dwight bringing up the rear, Star and Daryl sandwiched between their captors. Their hands were still bound, but Star had begun to loosen her ties as they walked. They entered a small clearing in the trees, and it seemed to perk the girls' interest as they began chatting about being "back again".

Daryl used the momentary distraction to draw closer to Star. She had been oddly quiet and complacent since the crack across the face.

"You ok?" he whispered. She only gave a subtle nod, not meeting his gaze.

"Star," he insisted. She lifted her eyes to his face, and he saw the swelling and angry red mark across her sharp cheeks and gentle jawline. Rage flooded through him, and she noticed his lips draw into a tight line across his teeth.

"Don't," she told him. She could see the helplessness, hurt and fury in his eyes, and she knew they needed to remain levelheaded to get out of this. She was already emotional enough; two people lost to logic could mean their death. She reached out to touch his bound hands with hers, but Dwight intervened.

"Don't make me separate you two," he warned. Daryl took a step back from Star, leaving her to walk closer to the girls.

"We got somewhere t' be," Daryl told Dwight evenly. "We can make a deal."

Dwight apparently wasn't in the mood to be bargained with, because he rolled his head as he pulled the pistol from his waistband.

"Now you're just gettin' on my nerves," Dwight warned. "Shoulda never trusted you people to begin with."

'We're here!" the brunette called out, sprinting ahead through the trees.

"Honey!" the small blonde yelled after her, nervously eyeing Star close behind her. "Honey, come back!" Star noticed her discomfort and took a half-hearted, lunging step towards the girl. The girl jumped and cowered, and Star allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. "Pussy," she taunted the girl.

"Knock it off," Dwight warned her from behind Daryl, but Daryl thought he heard a hint of a laugh in his voice.

The party reached a gated industrial sight, which looked like a fuel station for freight trucks. Walkers roamed the concrete pads, their rasps echoing off the steel buildings. The light in Honey and the blonde's eyes faded, and even Dwight seemed to deflate at the sight.

"Shit," the man muttered.

"No!" the blonde screamed. "NO! Not Patty!" She threw the large duffel bag she had been lugging to the dirt, her hands gripping the links in the fence. Honey threw an arm around her, burying her head into her shoulder.

Star and Daryl gave each other sideways glances. Daryl's eyes darted back into the woods, and then west, and Star nodded once. Daryl then looked at the forgotten duffel on the ground, and then back to the woods. Star again nodded. She blinked slowly at him. 1….2….

The small girl collapsed limply onto the ground, her companion crying, "TINA!" Dwight dropped to his knees to catch the girl.

Star turned on her heel and sprinted full-speed into the charred trees, frantically running sideways through the thick. She heard Dwight yell "Hey!", but Daryl's pursuing footsteps sounded closer. Two shots rang out, and she slowed just enough to come into her companion's field of view, and then continued high-stepping though the vegetation.

Seeing a fallen log, she launched herself over it, and Daryl came flying over a few seconds later. Star frantically wrenched one hand free of her ties, and then undid Daryl's binds as well.

"Holy shit," she panted. Daryl was already elbows-deep in the duffel bag, and tossed her the portable radio without looking up. She caught it and promptly began talking into it. "Sasha. Abraham. Come in."

Only static replied to her call.

"Dammit," she growled in frustration. She turned her attention to the remaining contents of the bag. Underneath the crossbow, Glock and her spear, which she promptly slung back over her back, was a red cooler.

"What's th…" she began, and then she read the upside down letters. INSULIN.

Daryl promptly stopped his rummaging and pried open the top. Several rows of medication and syringes sat in the container.

"The blonde girl," Star realized. "She's diabetic." She was promptly on her feet, the cooler cradled in her arms. "She collapsed. We're going back."

"Seriously?" Daryl sighed, but he was already standing, adjusting the crossbow on his back and tossing the duffel over his shoulder.

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The two broke the clearing, Daryl at the lead with his crossbow pointed squarely at Dwight's chest. The trio was exactly where they had been left; Tina, unconscious on the ground, Honey crouching over her, and Dwight frantically scanning the forest for his two escaped prisoners. Upon seeing Star and the hunter emerge from the trees, Dwight brought his hands up promptly to a surrender position.

"Look, we're sorry," he pleaded. "We thought you were workin' for 'im. But we need those meds!"

Daryl nodded for Star to pass him, and she holstered her spear as she ran to Honey's side. The two swiftly injected the insulin and held their breaths, waiting for a response from the young girl.

"Gimme th' gun," Daryl gruffly commanded Dwight. Dwight balked, his hand on the piece.

"No fuckin' funny business," Daryl snarled, raising his crossbow to aim right between the man's eyes. Dwight handed the weapon over to Daryl, who tucked it into the back of his waistband without taking his eyes off the Target.

"Star?" he inquired.

"She's fine," Star breathed a sigh of relief as Tina's eyelids fluttered and the color returned to her cheeks.

"Thank God," Honey cried out, and drew the small girl into a hug. She looked up with shining eyes at Star and mouthed, "Thank you."

Star rocked back onto her feet and stood up, un-holstering her spear along the way. She crossed back to behind Daryl.

"You have the meds," she told Dwight sharply. "And we're not going to tie you up and take you hostage. Must be your lucky damn day." She swung her spear to point exactly at the same spot as Daryl's arrow. "I suggest you don't push it."

He nodded in acknowledgement, swallowing thickly. "We didn't wanna hurt y'all. They just can't go back to 'im, ya see."

"No, we don't see, and quite frankly we don't care to," Star replied curtly. "Follow us and see how lucky you…"

Her vague threat was cut off by the distant rumbling of a large engine.

"Shit!" Dwight panicked. "Give me the gun back!" He told Daryl. Daryl made no movement.

Honey and Tina were at Dwight's side instantly, Tina supported partially on Honey's shoulder. The rumbling was quickly drawing closer.

"Dwight, it's Wade!" Honey said, visibly scared, while Tina overlapped with, "We gotta hide!"

"Let us go!" Dwight hissed at Daryl and Star. The two were caught without a plan and no idea what to do. Star shook her head at Daryl.

"For fuck's sake!" Dwight yelled. "They'll take 'em back to 'im!"

Tina was burying her eyes in Honey's shoulder, and Honey set a steely gaze at Star. "Please, you don't know what will happen to us!"

Star's spear tip wavered slightly, and she looked at Daryl again. This time, he nodded and lowered his crossbow. But their decision came too late. A large 4-door truck rumbled into the clearing, accompanied by two smaller vehicles. Three gruff, large men emerged from each vehicle, with the driver of the truck leading the way.

"Wade," Dwight called up to him, fear in his voice. "It don't have to go like this."

A sinister sneer crawled its way across the man's leathered face. "It's funny you say that, Dwight. Cause that's exactly what I'd think, but fact is, you stole from him. And you know we can't have that. Order and rules and all that."

Star counted the men and the pieces on their hips, and saw how vastly outnumbered and outgunned they were. If their captors were desperate to get away from this group, they must have some pretty severe punishments.

"We only took what we earned!" Tina piped up from Honey's arms. "Nothing more!"

"Well you two, yes," Wade confirmed as he stepped down from his throne and onto the forest floor. "But Dwight here…he took you two. And he certainly didn't earn that."

Star suddenly understood. _Honey and Tina are commodities. Commodities that belong to someone else. _

Rage swelled up in her. The world had gone to hell less than three years ago, and already someone was creating a culture and civilization with women as objects to be traded and earned. She stepped in front of the two girls, her spear again raised to attack…only this time, aimed at the band of men.

Daryl noticed her unspoken change of heart, and although utterly confused, followed suit and raised his crossbow at the leader.

Wade chuckled. "Looks like y'all made some friends. I was wondering how you'd survived all this time. We thought we were gonna find your corpses. But I'd hate to kill some folks who didn't do anything wrong to us."

"No one needs to die," Star returned. "We can all walk away from this. You can have whatever they took, except the girls and the insulin."

The men laughed.

"You got some guts, don't you, little lady," Wade smiled at her. "Tell you what, I'll do you one better. Dwight, you let us take the warrior and the new woman, and we'll let you three walk."

All eyes turned to Dwight, except Daryl's. In one movement, Daryl had his Glock in the other hand, pointing it at Dwight, the crossbow never wavering from Wade.

"Ya do tha, and we kill ever' last one of ya," Daryl cautioned to no one in particular.

The men laughed deeply again at that, and Star decided right then that there was no way out of the confrontation without bloodshed.

"He means it," she warned. "So one last time: they return the goods they took, and everyone walks away intact."

Wade was about ten feet away, with two of his associates flanking his sides. One of them had an AR, the other a revolver. Star slowly slid her hand stealthily into a side pocket, fingering one of her small knives.

"I don't think you fully understand your predicament," Wade taunted her. "We don't really need to make a deal. You're on the losing side here. We could take you all, and all your stuff, too. But we're trying to be reasonable here."

She held his gaze, and then cast her eyes over to her group. "Fine, we'll be reasonable. "Honey, pick up the duffel bag," Star instructed, and saw the girl follow her order out of the corner of her eyes.

"Daryl, give Dwight his gun back."

Had it been anyone else, Daryl would have questioned their decision making. But Star was too calm and had that mischievous, hard glint in her eyes. He could tell she had a plan, and he could see the faint glint of folded steel in her right hand.

Daryl holstered his Glock and handed the pistol back to Dwight. Dwight took it, looking completely confused.

"Well trained monkey," the henchman holding the AR joked. Star's eyes snapped up to him.

"It was nice meeting you all," she said quietly. "But here is where we say good bye."

"What?!" Honey cried out. "No! You can't!"

Star looked right at the girl. "Go," she said calmly, and then snapped into a turn on her heel and let the concealed knife fly. It buried its blade keep in the chest cavity of the man holding the AR.

Shock took hold of the entire scene for a half second and the man's knees crumbled underneath him, and with a gargled cry, he slammed face-first into the blackened earth.

"GO!" Star hollered, and she, Daryl, Dwight, Honey and Tina bolted for the trees, a rain of bullets chasing them into the pines.

**Phew! So sorry, once again, for the delayed updates. I'm working lots, life happens, etc. etc. Reviews are treasured forever. **


	28. Shall We

**Wow, it's been quite a while! As always, my vast apologies for my delayed updates and extended absences. Life happens, ya know?**

**In light of last night's episode, we are picking up where we left off! Onwards and upwards!**

Star ducked and dodged her way through the forest, only slowing long enough to hear four other frantic sets of footsteps before regaining her speed. She heard Daryl's heavy, boot-laden foosteps zigging erratic patterns behind her, and caught small bits of the two girls' panicked breathing.

She wasn't sure how far was far enough, even as the whizzing of bullets faded to silence, and stayed that way. Still, she waited until a particularly thick grouping of the charred trees before slowing her sprint to a jog, and finally coming a stop in the middle of the black trunks. Dwight was hot on her heels, Daryl closely following with the two young girls. Star's eyes remained vigilantly upward as the four caught their breaths.

"What th' hell was that?" Daryl gasped at Dwight, Tina and Honey. "Who were those guys?"

"Our old group," Honey replied without making eye contact.

Star set her eyes on the greasy, pale man. "Dwight, you took them from those men?"

"More or less," Dwight replied. Star caught Daryl's eyes meaningfully. Daryl held her gaze, but didn't make any motion of decision, other than pointing his gun at Dwight and gruffly stating, "Let's keep movin'."

The group picked their way through the dead forest silently, with no direction and no idea what to do next. The tense uncertainty was broken when Tina gasped and ran towards a molten, transparent heap of glass and twisted metal in a clearing.

"NO!" she screamed, throwing herself down at the side of what appeared to be a melted greenhouse. "Sammy! Dawn! NO!"

"Shut her up," Daryl warned Honey. Honey glared at his callousness but knelt by her friend and wrapped an arm around her, shushing her gently.

"We did this," the girl sobbed hysterically. "This is our fault. Why were they even out here?!"

Star approached the scene and jumped slightly when, underneath the thick layers of mangled glass, two walkers were moving in minute manners, barely able to groan with the tight seal of material around their bodies. They were charred and burned almost beyond being recognized as humans.

"You knew them?" she gasped in horror. Dwight only nodded sadly.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Honey chimed in from Tina's side. "No one was supposed to be outside the walls…it was supposed to be just a distraction so we could get out."

The talking seemed to agitate the walkers encased in the glass. They began sinking down into the soft earth underneath, creating more space under the glass tomb to scratch and gnash.

"Let's get goin'," Daryl insisted. "Ain't no good comin' from bein' out here."

"Where are we going?" Dwight insisted. "We've got nowhere to go now."

Daryl caught Star's eyes, and she gave a small nod.

"We'll talk 'bout it, jus' not here," Daryl told the man as he holstered his gun again.

Dwight seemed to accept this, and turned to his two mourning companions. "Tina, Honey, come on."

Honey got to her feet, but Tina remained on her knees. "We can't just leave them like this," she insisted with tears in her eyes. "It's not right. They were good people."

"We can't let 'em out," Daryl reasoned with her. "Too risky."

Star sympathized more with the young girl. "Here," she volunteered, and picked up four charred sticks from the forest floor. She used her spear to cut some loose strings from the cloth bag, and hastily fashioned two crosses from the items.

"I'm not sure if they were religious, but…" she shrugged, and handed them to the girl on the ground. Tina sniffed and took the crosses, and got to her feet to select a few stones from the area to prop the crosses up with.

"We don't got time for this," Daryl insisted to Star quietly. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his blue eyes.

"At ease," she soothed him. "There needs to be time for this."

Her nodded in acknowledgement, and leaned slightly into her palm. She gave him a small smile as the sound of shattering glass cracked the air.

"TINA!" Honey screamed, rushing forward and being stopped immediately by Dwight's arms around her chest. Star charged to the girl as the walker shook through the broken shards and sunk its rotting teeth into her shoulder.

Star grabbed the girl's arm and tried to pull her free, but the walker would not relent its hold. The girl's wound spurted more blood and her screams grew more agonized the harder Star pulled.

"DON'T!" Honey screeched, and Daryl was suddenly at Star's side, gun aimed and firing twice into the young woman's temple before Star could recognize what was happening. Star stabbed her spear into the walker's skull, and silence consumed the world again, broken only by the tiny shards of glass cascading to the forest floor.

The grave for Tina look an hour to dig, and another fifteen minutes to bury her. The entire time was blanketed in a dreary silence. The only one to say anything over her was Honey, who whispered a broken, "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

The group circled back to the motorcycle abandoned by Star and Daryl earlier that day. As he hauled the machinery upright, he handed the guns he'd taken from Dwight's group to Star, and then tossed his head towards the two left. Star handed them the pieces back wordlessly, and Dwight took them with the same amount of words.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Daryl asked the man. The man seemed taken aback by the question, but answered, "Who knows that anymore?"

"How many people have you killed?"

Guilt flooded Dwight's face. "More than I thought. More than I wanted to."

"Why?"

"Why?!"

"Yah, why?"

"To stay alive. To keep them…her…alive."

Daryl nodded in acceptance. "We have a community, and we bring people in. You should come there with us," he said plainly.

"Really?" Honey perked up. "Where?"

"Come with us," Star reiterated. "You said you have nowhere to go."

Honey and Dwight exchanged significant glances. Dwight turned the gun over in his hand.

"Here's the thing…" he said, and then swung the piece up to aim it square at Star's forehead. Daryl immediately jumped forward, but Star lowered her spear to block him.

"Daryl, don't," she suggested.

"Gimme the bow," Dwight demanded. Daryl lowered the crossbow from his shoulder and tossed it at Honey's feet, who struggled to pick the heavy weapon up.

"You were decent to us back there," Dwight commended, "so we'll leave you with the spear. But we see you again, we will kill you. Honey, get on the bike."

Dwight mounted the vehicle after her, then handed her the piece to kep trained on Star, and drove off thorugh the forest towards the road without another word.

"Son of a bitch," Star cursed their ash trail. She turned to look at Daryl, who looked exhausted and annoyed.

"That's what we get," he quipped at her. She gave him a tight-lipped smile.

"Remind me to laugh about it later," she joked back. "Shall we?"

Six miles down the road, Star's spear tips were covered in decayed human matter, and both of their weary faces were covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"What is it with you Southerners and keeping your water in your air?" Star joked at Daryl, trying to make him laugh, or at least make a sound. He just raised his brows at her, and looked back at the stretch of road ahead of them. Something caught his eye, and Star saw a glimmer of enthusiasm reach them. She turned her head to follow his gaze.

"AA Pattrick Fuel Co," she read on the side of a sizeable truck up ahead. Daryl broke into a light run towards it, and Star followed his lead. When they reach the truck, he pointed at the license plate.

"PATTY002," she read aloud. "No way."

He smiled at her for the first time in a long day. "Shall we?" he quipped back.


	29. There Was a Life

**Thank you for the reviews and follows! I love seeing the notifications from FF light up my phone ****. I again apologize for the long absences. We recently relocated to Tulsa, so our lives have been consumed by job hunting and unpacking. **

**I am choosing to skip over the sexy "Daryl with a rocket launcher" scenes, primarily because I don't think I would write them any differently with Star there. Also because I am mentally exhausted and the thought of writing another action chapter, when we have so many to come. **

**As always, even after all the hell our country is going through…onwards and upwards!**

Star was still staring at Daryl when his head hit the pillow later that night. His hair damp from the warm shower (uninterrupted this time), his eyes slid closed and he let out a deep sigh. Noticing she wasn't moving next to him, he cracked an eyelid and peered up at her from the corner of his eye.

"Wha?" he asked, mildly irritated. Her gold eyes were bright and bewildered in the moon-lit room. An amused and awed smile played at her lips.

"You…" she barely choked back a giggle. "You blew up a pond of walkers. Like, with fire."

He squinted harder at her, trying to figure out if she was mocking him.

"So?" he grumbled, closing his eyes and turning onto his side.

She laughed quietly again and laid down next to him. "So it was awesome," she whispered back. A small smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he slipped into a deeply deserved sleep.

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The sun had gone past streaming through the windows and was beating down on the room before Daryl stirred. He glanced groggily around the room and was both pleased and nervous to see a conked-out Star, slack-jawed and head tilted back, sprawled next to him.

_Don' chicken out, ya coward_. He mentally scolded himself_. Ya ditched her in the mornin' too many times already. Man up!_

He tentatively poked her arm. She didn't move except for a strand of hair fluttering under her nose every time she inhaled.

He poked her more assertively, now mildly panicked that he had picked this as his course of action and simultaneously afraid to change tactics to something even more awkward. She still didn't move.

"Star," he said quietly. Still nothing.

"Star!", paired with a poke to the ribs. This time she grunted, and a sleepy eye peered out from the nest of hair on her face. She looked at his blurry shape for a second, and a bemused, sleepy smile spread across her face.

"Best only be waking me up if there's another fire pond across the street," she grumbled.

"Sorry t' disappoint," Daryl responded. "At least for now."

She laughed quietly and rocked into a seated position, stretching her long limbs and yawning. "Good morning," she greeted, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

He blushed slightly but didn't pull away or flinch. "Mornin'."

She grimaced slightly and reached into one of the many pockets on her dirty and torn pants. She was still dressed in her outfit from the previous day, having been too exhausted last night to change or clean up. A throwing knife was produced from the fabric, and she set it on the window sill near the mattress. She looked back at her side of the mattress, the sheets now streaked with dirt and dried blood.

"Gross," she commented. "Sorry about that. I'll get the sheets into the wash today."

Daryl just shrugged. "Don't mind," he responded.

"Yeah, well I do," she said back. "I'm sure the days will come when we have to sleep in blood and dirt again. Until then, I'm going to use those washing machines in the garage to their full potential." She looked around at the clothing scattered around the room. "Mind if I grab your clothes and throw them in, too?"

Daryl stared at her. She raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"Is that a….no?" she guessed.

He looked down at the floor. "I'll do 'em," he responded.

"It's no big deal, Daryl. I'm already doing mine."

He opened his mouth to protest again, but she saw through it and cut right to the heart of the matter.

"You're worth the extra thirty seconds it will take me to add your clothes, Daryl. You're worth more than that, and I'd be glad to do it."

He looked up at her, speechless. Her eyes had those hard, mischievous glints again, challenging him to call her a liar.

"You can do the next load with my clothes," she compromised, making the gesture easier to swallow for him. His gratitude shown in his eyes.

"Deal," he agreed, and then, startling them both, he reached his hand to the back of her head and brought her lips to his in a strong kiss. She jumped slightly but closed her eyes and deepened the kiss, relishing in the rare show of emotion from the man. She brought her hand up to the back of his head, mirroring his pose, but felt him wince under the pressure of her fingertips.

"Sorry," she apologized, pulling away. He almost growled at her withdrawal but ran a bruised hand across the back of his skull, hissing in pain.

"Fucker got me good," he grumbled. He looked up at her, remembering that she had received the same 2x4 treatment from their captors. A protective surge coursed through him, and he dug his nails into the mattress below them as he scanned her body for last night's final score. Her stitched leg wound was exposed, three of the stitches torn from her skin. Her wrists held identical marks to the rope burn on his. Her right knee was blue, purple and black, angry and jagged scratches across the bruise from sliding on the road. Finally, her small, angular face was severely swollen across her left cheek and jawbone, the blue and purple tints already showing the outline of the butt of the pistol.

Daryl reached out to cradle her face, her gold eyes locked onto his, seeking comfort. But he pulled his hand back, mentally kicking himself for being so stupid as to ask Dwight the three questions. _How could ya'? Look at what he did t' Star? Fucking pushover…_

"Angel," Star called softly, reaching across the space between them to grasp his fingers in hers. "Stay here please."

He peeled his eyes open. " Can't believe I was gonna let that son'a'bitch in here," he muttered, his eyes snapping to her battered face.

She recognized the guilt hidden behind anger in his words, but she also felt the throbbing in her jawline. She chewed on her lip, and then recalled something Carol had told her.

"When you met Rick, he had left your brother cuffed to a rooftop surrounded by walkers," Star reminded him. "People do uncharacteristic things in desperate times."

"That's different," Daryl immediately fired back.

"How so?" Star challenged.

"Cuz!" Daryl shot angrily.

Star wasn't fazed by his temper. "How so?" she repeated.

"Cuz it's you!" he snapped, jumping to his feet and stomping out of the room and clambering down the stairs.

The front door slammed shut behind him, sounded throughout the empty house. Star let her head fall back onto the wall behind the bed with a "thud".

"One day," she promised herself. "One day we are going to leave this room calmly, like functional adults."

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Star took a long, hot shower, taking her time cleaning out her cuts and bruises. She re-stitched her leg, hissing in pain but keeping her cries to herself as she laced the dental floss back through her tender skin. She stared at her broken reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing her own profile. _Ok, I see what he was upset about. This looks pretty gnarly. _

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Daryl hit the sidewalk at a furious pace, stomping his way down the pavement and internally slamming his own actions.

_Nice, run away again. Big fuckin' surprise there! No better than Meryl, leavin' when shit gets rough. Goddamn pussy! _

He reached the walls at the eastern end of the community, and stopped at the towering barrier. With the absence of his footsteps, he became increasingly aware of the quiet morning surrounding him. No neighborhood chatter, no cars…and no footsteps following him. No Star chasing him down to force him to face his actions.

He leaned forward until his forehead contacted the cold steel barrier_. She had to stop chasin' yer dumb ass sometime. Ya finally push her away. _

He reached out to the wall and flexed his fingers against the frigid, smooth surface, the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. The echoing silence, the acute knowledge of being on his own. This felt familiar; this felt like life before the walkers, before Rick, before a family, before Star… Solid. Cold, Empty. Practical. Alone. Constantly. And back there…back there was chaos. Chatter. Changing. Family. Emotions. Conflicts.

Here made sense. Here was safe. And there was terrifying. There was a life.

He peeled his forehead from the metal, and pushed off from the wall on his fingertips. He stared, almost terrified, at the barrier, and began breathing rapidly. He clenched his fists, swallowed, and took a shuddering, deep breath. Turning on his heel, he briskly walked, and then jogged, back towards the house.

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Star had just begun to cut into an orange when the front door burst open. She dropped the orange and immediately held the knife toward the noise, crouching low behind the island and ready to attack.

Daryl rounded the corner into the kitchen, not slowing his stride as he said, "'ts me,".

Star shook her head at him and lowered the knife slightly. "Sorry, you start…." Her excuse was cut short as he lips captured hers in a rushed, forceful kiss, his fingers immediately capturing her wrist and guiding her to drop the knife to the floor. She gladly obliged wrapped her free arms around his waist, but pulled away from his insistent embrace.

"You came back on your own," she gasped, both out of breath and surprised.

"Done runnin'," he responded, the last word mumbled across her lips.

**Whatttt I'm so glad the AC is on in this coffee shop. **

**Next chapter is y'all's reward for being so patient with me. You know what that means. **


	30. Feeling of Finally

**Here we go! Chapter 30! I can't believe we made it this far. It has been almost two years to the day that I first published the first chapter. Thanks for sticking with it through the long absences and cruel delay of desires. **

**Onwards, upwards, smutwards.**

Daryl had expected her to be shocked by his uncharacteristic decision, his impulsive physicality. He had expected her to stumble backwards in shock, her eyes wide and trying to comprehend this change of approach. He had expected her to ask, "Why?", to make him stop and talk her through his thought process.

He had not expected her to wrap and lock her arms around his neck, jumping onto his strong frame and coiling her long, lean legs around his hips. His own arms took him by surprise as they snaked around her small waist and secured her against him, their lips never missing a beat in the embrace.

His tongue begged for entrance to her lips, and she hastily granted it. Her eyes slid back as she tasted the scent she always craved from him. His short, broken nails digging into her sides told her the intoxication was mutual.

They raggedly broke apart for air, Daryl resting his cold forehead against her warm temple as he panted. Star breathed deeply and gasped, "Our room. Now."

He simply shook his head against hers. "Too far," he replied, and she laughed joyously at his assessment and want. Uncurling her legs from around him, she slid slowly to the floor, using her arms to let her weight drag slowly across his hardening member. His limbs locked in discomfort at this obvious show of sexuality, but his eyes remained on her mischievous lenses. Finally, her feet found the ground, and her fingertips found his hand.

"Then somewhere closer," she responded, and was yanking him towards the closest door before he had the chance to register what his feet were doing. They stumbled through the doorway and Star slammed the door shut behind them, encasing them in a small, dark space. Daryl took a half beat to peer in the dark, chuckling to himself as his back collided with metal shelves.

"Th' pantry?" he teased at her, and she shoved him roughly against the door, her lips already engulfing his. The humor of their location was instantly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

Daryl forgot. He forgot his self-consciousness as she caressed his jaw and cheeks with her fingertips. He forgot his shame at his slight frame as his leg was caught between her thighs, a willing prisoner to her rhythmic pulsations. He forgot to insult himself as he whispered her name, his tongue flicking her ear instead of harsh words. He forgot that his hands were only good at hurting, as they peeled her t-shirt and shorts from her skin as if they were made of air. He forgot the sting of his scars as she ran her tongue over his back, using her teeth to remove his shirt. He forgot his assigned place in society as he gazed upon her naked figure, barely lit by the light sneaking under the door, basking in the feeling that she had chosen him. He forgot that he was a loner, a rogue, unwanted as she tangled her limbs with his on the floor, her long hair curtaining around them as she lowered her warm, wet center to his standing cock and encased his being in hers.

His eyes slid back and closed at the feeling of finally, finally being home.

Star wasn't content to let him experience the unspoken transcendence. She wanted it to be concrete on every level. Keeping him entirely immersed inside of her, she reached forward and trailed her fingertips across his features, lingering on his lips and face.

"Daryl," she whispered. He pried an eye closed, his fingertips flexing and kneading at her hips.

"Star," he responded in kind.

"Be here," she coaxed. "Please."

Weeks ago, he would have been bewildered and confused by her vague request, but now he knew this woman, this entity, almost better than he knew himself. She had him flat on his back on the floor, straddling him, so he sat upright, keeping her firmly seated on and around him, and wrapped his arms around her.

Their eyes had adjusted to the low lighting well enough where she could see his eyes. They looked both terrified and calm, panicked and accepting. This was new, she realized suddenly. Daryl, although a lover by nature, had never made love.

"First time?" she asked quietly. He shook his head adamantly.

"I've had woman," he insisted. She smiled softly and slowly lowered her lips to his, lightly caressing at him but keeping a firm pressure. With the same timing, she rocked her core around him, feeling him pulse deep within her.

"That's not what I'm asking," she clarified, still waving her abs and rocking her ass in a way that resembled an ocean's tide. He looked down at the rippling of her body and groaned, dropping his head to her clavicle. She wove her fingers through his hair, gently tugging at it in a playful and assertive way.

"You've never loved," she stated more specifically. "And you've never been loved."

He lifted his head from her shoulder and roughly pulled her by her neck down to his lips, biting softly at her.

"Not like this," he hissed in pleasure between bites. That vulnerability and aching honesty seemed to reach deep within her, and she began to grind on him more furiously, her nails digging into his scalp and her gasps of pleasure echoing in his ears. Daryl, motivated by her reaction, began thrusting into her in time, pouring a torrent of words out into the air between them.

"Can't tell ya why, but ya….you…Star…" he rasped. "You."

She began to whimper, slamming herself into him as all decadence and artistry was forgotten into the rawness of him. He followed her lead, following his pleasure as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her, relishing in the feeling of her warmth flexing and tightening around her.

"Daryl…oh my god…." She panted. "Yes….I'm…."

Her final push was a blur of squeezing, pulsing and waving as her orgasm took ahold of her, and she muffled her scream of ecstasy into his shoulder as he bit down onto hers, feeling himself flood into her as he groaned out the last of the air in his lungs.

They lay as a tangle of limbs and sweat, breathing rapidly and waiting to regain control of their bodies. Star seemed to recover first, hauling herself off of him and reaching down to kiss him deeply. Daryl blushed slightly in the dark, but kissed her back and pulled away with a small smile.

His smile faded rapidly as the noisy sounds of the kitchen broke through their small corner of the world. Beyond the door, pots and pans were being metallically clanked, voices chattering happily as cabinets opened and chairs scratched at the tile floor.

Star's eyes widened as she came to the same realization; the family was awake, and in the kitchen for breakfast. Daryl's horrified expression met hers, and she suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh at the situation. Daryl was relieved she was taking it so well, and cracked a smile, too.

"Oh Christ," she whispered, handing his clothes to him as he threw hers at her head. "What do we do?"

He shrugged, pulling his jeans and belt back on as quietly as possible. "Wait?" he guessed.

She thought it over. "Yeah...but I'm famished," she said, shoving him playfully. He blushed and chewed on his lip.

Star sighed deeply in the dark next to him.

"We are never going to live this down," she lamented in his ear.

He looked over at her, her gold eyes sparkling and her long hair a disheveled mess, a bemused smile playing at her lips. He quickly captured them for a small and tender kiss.

"There's worse things," he responded, and threw the pantry door open.

**TA-DA! Daryl and Star finally consummate their relationship, a la "Trapped in a Closet". What do you think?**


End file.
